Girlfriend is super. She’s cool. She’s fun. She slips under your radar like nobody’s bidness. She also has problems finding her way out of her room each morning.
That’s not to say she isn’t smart. Girlfriend has some crazy talent with the words and the numbers. She just…embraces her inner ditz like you wouldn’t believe.
She hasn’t quite reached the intolerable teens. It doesn’t take much effort to like her, but I see signs of trouble ahead.
Me: Girlfriend, you left the door to the garage open.
Girlfriend: I did?
Me: Yeah. (Unspoken implication being CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR! WHAT? DO WE OWN THE ELECTRIC COMPANY NOW?!)
Girlfriend: Oh! Right!! I should close it.
I watch her walk by it three times without closing it. It’s obvious she’s trying to remember why she’s in this part of the house when just a minute ago she was elsewhere. How did I get here? I’m hungry for grapes—oooh, shiny thing!
Me: Girlfriend!! The door!!
Girlfriend ducks like a random door is suddenly being hurtled through the air towards her. Catlike reflexes. Did I mention that she’s an athlete?
Me: CLOSE IT!!
She smiles the smile of the simple-minded “Oh yeaaaahhhhh,” and closes it.
Girlfriend: Did you know that you can cut a pie into 8 pieces with only 3 slices?