Sunday Scribblings Post-Prompt "Purpose"
Purpose
There are days when I suspect his sole purpose for existing today is to try my patience. Just because he's a grown man doesn't mean that he won't make messes or break things, track mud across the floor, or forget that he'd made a plan with me. It's an effort for me to remember that I make mistakes, too, that I have just as much ability to upset and worry him.
But then again, there are days like today. I've felt like going back to bed from the moment that I flipped back the blankets and heard my book fall to the floor. When I rolled over to see what the noise was, I encountered my bookmark, still resting exactly where I had left it on the nightstand. The day has gone downhill from there. I've done what I can to avoid disaster and have, instead, perpetrated a small avalanche of minor annoyances that has buried any traces of good mood that I might have managed to dredge to the surface.
When he sees me, he can tell that it hasn't been a good day. He decides that something must be done. Before I can ask what he's doing, he's got some Betty Boop cartoons in the DVD player and iced tea brewing. He sits down with me and engages in a companionable silence guaranteed not to make things worse. When the DVD finishes, he turns to me and asks “Pizza or steaks?”
The curse is lifted and I grin at him. “Let's go with pizza.”
There are days when I suspect his sole purpose for existing today is to try my patience. Just because he's a grown man doesn't mean that he won't make messes or break things, track mud across the floor, or forget that he'd made a plan with me. It's an effort for me to remember that I make mistakes, too, that I have just as much ability to upset and worry him.
But then again, there are days like today. I've felt like going back to bed from the moment that I flipped back the blankets and heard my book fall to the floor. When I rolled over to see what the noise was, I encountered my bookmark, still resting exactly where I had left it on the nightstand. The day has gone downhill from there. I've done what I can to avoid disaster and have, instead, perpetrated a small avalanche of minor annoyances that has buried any traces of good mood that I might have managed to dredge to the surface.
When he sees me, he can tell that it hasn't been a good day. He decides that something must be done. Before I can ask what he's doing, he's got some Betty Boop cartoons in the DVD player and iced tea brewing. He sits down with me and engages in a companionable silence guaranteed not to make things worse. When the DVD finishes, he turns to me and asks “Pizza or steaks?”
The curse is lifted and I grin at him. “Let's go with pizza.”