Once in a Lifetime
- by Talking Heads
- on Remain in Light
- 2,863 plays
It’s bedtime, one of us announces, though I can’t be sure of which one of us it was. You rise first, giving me a hand up off the couch. After she refuses to come to our calls, one of us drags our beast off the couch and shoos her towards the bed.
Lights off. Door locked. Bathroom. Teeth brushed. Phones collected. Alarms set.
What time do you work tomorrow? Dinner afterwards? We’ll make soup, but probably go out instead. We pile in first, situating the covers into a perfectly 60-40 position. Up, we tell the dog. She leaps, and wiggles her way in between us, resting her head on a chest or a pillow. Cuddle, cuddle, cuddle. Remark on our luck.
Are you ready? Lights out. Go on, dog. She retreats to her position at our feet. A quick kiss. Flip to our sides, pressing our backs together for our own brand of cuddles. Make a diamond shaped hole for our beast, cradling her with calves and the back of our thighs.
I’m not tired at all, I mutter. I glance at the clock. Minutes later I am sound asleep, dreaming of him, and of her, and of our simple luck.
Last week my mister and I had the pleasure of buying an electric guitar for his musical pursuits. On our way out of the store, I remember remarking that it was so strange being able to spend that much money at once, and still be okay.
Later that evening, mid-saute, I had an overwhelming feeling of adult-ness. I don’t really know where it came from, as that evening was no different than most of our evenings together. He was in the dining room, fiddling around with his new friend. Our dogbeast was laying under my feet, patiently awaiting a chunk of sweet potato or squash.
Sometimes this whole thing seems like too much to deal with. All of the laundry left to be folded, the dust collecting around my books, the 37 house plants that never seem to have been watered, the container of leftovers that goes bad before I can eat them, and the conversations ruined by our miscommunications. Failure, failure, failure, tucked in all of our corners.
But. But! A gentle reminder from him that I criticize myself too freely brings reality back into focus. We are managing. We are flourishing. The things we have to be proud of far outweigh the things we have to be discouraged by. All the bills are paid. Progress. Exciting job news for both of us. Progress. Less produce wasted this week. Progress. Progress. We are moving forward, self, we are moving forward.
.Less criticizing. More self-love and appreciation.
The Devil in the White City | Erik Larson
A work of non-fiction describing the construction of the 1893 World’s Fair and a serial killer who used the fair as a hunting ground.
Andrea Gibson (via filthyandfine)
Writing prompt, likely. Needed.
just in case you thought your life was going okay, here’s a reminder that it’s not
Rachel Maddow on Obama’s Re-Election. Also, my thoughts on Obama’s Re-Election.
Do you know where to vote?
If not, click here.
I was in line to cast my ballot before the polls opened, due to an early morning at work. There was something very patriotc-feeling about beating the sun to participate in one of our greatest privledges, duties, rights.
Though I am a firm believer that everyone should be voting, I want to encourage all those who did not take the time to inform themselves about their candidates to stay home. Uninformed voting does much more damage than no voting at all.