Pondering Aimlessly, or "Wouldn't It Be Nice..."
Things are good: never been better. Still I wonder if I will ever have real-people money. You know.. the kind of money where you can make a down payment on a house an afford a car from the current decade and you see a doctor besides Doctor Bronner: who's dead and lives on as echos of semi-sensical ramblings printed on the side of variously sized bottles of castile soap. The problem is that those bottles aren't situated in the well organized bathroom closet of a house I share with my girlfriend... or at least an apartment... or at the *very* least, I long to have our collection of exotic soaps/teas/books in the same county so I can see her in the middle of the week and we can do a whole lot of nothing together. I'd like to cook her a meal: I'd like to leave her home alone to tend to her things while I tend to mine and to reconvene like other, happy, less happy, and even miserable couples get to do at the end of the day. You are wrong: it's not the distance that invigorates our love -- absence makes the heart grow fonder but more anxious. They tell us that we will fight and be miserable if we *have to put up with* eachother all the time. All I want is to waste every moment of every day with her doing nothing for no one-- wandering aimlessly. I flew a kite last weekend and I was happy. I want to do this after work, after I bring home enough money so we can afford a house and I can afford to buy her the Cello I promised her for her birthday. I want to tend my garden: harvest my heirlooms and I want us to entertain friends over Keemun who can tell me later in the week when I go out alone that they are disappointed that Elaine decided to stay home so she could finally get a few minutes away from me, because she's so wonderful and that I'm so much happier when she's around. I want her to be around. I want to be around her.