“I’m just a gypsy, you know,”
she said referring to her endless travels. Of course she flitted across the office as she said it, being sure to rustle her oversized skirt that was likely hiding the office fax machine that would fit into the one flat surface on her dining room table at home.
I shook my head, and at that moment dislodged the filter.
“You may DRESS like a gypsy, TRAVEL like a gypsy, and TALK like a gypsy. But there is no way on this planet that you can fit all your shit in a wagon.”