O Love, keep me warm, keep me satisfied
I heard an unbelievable story from a high school friend (via the book of faces). She lives inland in a coastal state and has a vacation house near the sea. They drove in last night and discovered a tent in their back yard, which overlooks the ocean. Not a someone-is-camping-on-my-lawn tent. A someone-is-having-a-wedding-at-my-house-and-didn’t-invite-me tent. It seems that someone got permission from the next door neighbors to do a small afternoon cocktail reception on his patio. The neighbor lives out of state and isn’t around. Instead they planned a large wedding from my friend’s house, assuming they wouldn’t be home. I’ve seen the pictures. There should be no question who owns the property. They set up a tent, and tables and chairs and were just about to bring in a dance floor when my friend and her family arrived and told them no way.
Who would do something like that? Unbelievable.
We have been cleaning up the basement and throwing things away. Throwing things away feels good. Except when they’re AJ’s little tiny chairs, the ones we bought for him before he turned 2. I still have the table, which I use in the laundry room. I have pictures of AJ and Unfocused Girl at AJ’s second birthday eating cake at that table. It’s hard to imagine they were ever small enough to sit in those chairs. I remember that birthday vividly, though. The cake had a lot of blue icing which had, er, interesting properties, which became apparent when I changed AJ’s diaper the next morning. Blue icing yields bright green poop, in case you were wondering.
The house is making me anxious and my performance review is making me anxious. And leaving makes me anxious. We are trying to pretend there is nothing going on.
Mr. Spy and I took a walk down to the river. A little flowing water is good for the soul. It is cold here. We had to bundle up. But the swallows, swooping low over the water, think it’s still spring. And the cold meant the motorboats were all docked. There was just the sound of ducks and kingfishers and water lapping around the legs of the dock. Part of why we’re so anxious about the house is that on days like this, we’re not entirely sure we want to leave.