A Normalacy

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Himself: His Birthday. Yup. I await instructions after I sing “that” song. Herself: Continuing to stay out of the way putting family jpg’s in order. It’s amazing how fast they leap back into their own numbers if I miss one or two. Reading: Still into the Stevenson’s but finding them slightly shallow after the Cadell’s. One of which arrived in the mail today, and I didn’t own it. Oh, Hurrah!!!! Balance: Taking a book with me.

We walked home from the Mexican fast food joint teasing each other.

“Look at that peach color,” I said enthusiastically, waving at the sky.

“And blue and black….” Trash can colors. Recycle can colors.

“And purple around the edges,” I come back.

“And grey and green…” he laughed calling out the colors of the cars on the street.

Life returns to a bit of normal after months.

Our teeth are cleaned….and much to my dismay I find that I have been forgetting one lone tooth far in the upper right rear. Castigated, we pick up a replacement sound cable for the Sunday meeting, and stop again at Smart and Final to buy three sizes of trash can liners for that same Sunday meeting.

We take back the too long small metal shelves to IKEA, and find nothing to replace them for spice shelves. Nothing at the container store either. We both slow down.

I have one jar of every spice. Doesn’t everyone? It appears not as getting enough imaginative shelving seems impossible. There’s limited space, and I don’t want to decant each spice jar into something cutsey. “You seem to have a very specialized problem. Good luck,” says the very helpful sales person at the Fashion Valley Container Store. She gave us her all.

“Home,” I say discouraged.

“Home Depot,” he says.

I wait for him reading on the comfort of Grumpy’s soft, bench seat, enjoying the warmth of the sun, enjoying the people going in to the store. Smiling when he returns with two piano hinges and some, “Real wood.”

After we eat, off comes his levis and layers and on go the sweats. I swab my freshly washed, now dirty sweater, with a pre-wash stick in hopes of erasing the enchilada sauce that danced down my front during dinner. The black of evening creeps up on us and we don’t notice. Comfort reigns supreme.

It’s nice to be able to let it all go for an evening.

It’s nice to revolt and have coffee and the morning news paper upstairs out of the chaos too.