These things happened to me today.
I stared at Atticus this morning after he woke up at 6:00 am.
I dropped Gabrielle off at day camp along with 36 brownies. I gave her a kiss goodbye and she was all smiles. I kept thinking that no matter how sour we are with each other I'll always have that morning with her when I drop her off at school or daycare. I always get to work her and kiss her goodbye. I get to remember that. Will she? I told Irene this evening that most kids not matter how much baggage they trudge around, no matter how sour they are, they at some point want their moms to come in stroke their heads and tell them that everything is going to be alright. I am 31 and I still want my wife to do that.
My computer at work crashed due to a virus.
I talked to my friend about chemotherapy.
I bought a Butterfinger in the vending machine. I shouldn't have. My body doesn't need it.
I went to pick up Gabrielle tonight at her acting class in Evanston. I got there with a little time to spare, bought a cookie, grabbed my book and sat on a bench and read.
An old lady sat next to me after awhile. She was reading Ethan Frome. It felt nice the two of us sitting there, wordlessly enjoying different ends of a bench and the same day.
Our drive back I listened to Andrew Bird's live version of Sovay. Upon hearing it, Gabs asked me to listen to the song we listened to this morning when I dropped her off at day camp. She said, you know that song, he sounds like this guy. Then I remembered it was Rufus Wainwright singing Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk.
My left hand cramped up while I was driving home and I had a slight freakout. It just shut and I had to pry it open. Scared me.
We stopped by Orange Garden, our favorite Chinese restaurant, on the way home and we picked up a small dinner. I thought and said out loud, this fine meal represents the last of our petty cash. Funny, since Gabs brought Ghostbusters to school today for the kids to watch (if it was appropriate - it wasn't).
Our back yard has two raspberry trees. We walk all over them and trample them into the apartment. The pavement in back looks like acne.
Atticus screamed like holy hell while he was in his play gym seat thingie. Screamed in a good way.
Now my dog is lying on the floor, one patch on her is the exact shape of a heart. I spent money I don't have. And I feel like if I blink summer will be gone.
1 Comments:
Sometimes, when you want a Butterfinger, you have to get the Butterfinger.
And "The pavement in back looks like acne" needs to be in a poem, in some way.
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