Written 31 August, 2010
Flying Home
I did something stupid today. I booked my flight home on Orbitz. I found a cheap flight ($89 one way), got it set, and checked with Sweetie to make sure the time and day were okay. Then I booked it.
So why did I get a message four hours later saying I had booked the flight a week later than I thought?
I guess it was the subconscious thing. I couldn't bear to part from my dear Sweetie, so my finger jiggled or something. Or something.
Tonight I asked Sweetie to pick up some cilantro at the store on her way home from work. We had guacamole (thank you, Trader Joe's!) and I cut two steaks into thin strips and fried them with garlic. We stuffed steak and cilantro into warm flour tortillas, put the guac and some chips on our plates, and had a simple but tasty supper.
It made me think about how easily the two of us slip into domesticity. I roll out of bed in the morning and fix her breakfast and lunch and have supper ready (or at least ready to begin) when she gets home. I call and ask her to grab some cilantro on her way home. I take her car to get the oil changed or the brakes fixed. She puts a cooler on a spare video card I brought up because her eyesight is better than mine. We drive upstate on Saturday morning so she can make a bank deposit. She looks over my shoulder and rubs my back as I type this.
When it comes time to return home, I hate to go-- and yet I miss my house and am eager to get back to it. I live in two worlds. Well, three, including Second Life.
My house is too small for the both of us and her apartment is too small for the both of us. Real estate is expensive in New York, and we can't see how we could afford to buy a house together, even if I sold mine. But you know, while betwixt and between is perhaps not the ideal state of affairs, it works for us. I get to hold her in my arms and watch her go to sleep one week; the next, we lie down together in our prim bed in the House of 1000 Pleasures. One week I fix Mexican for her, the next week we tear ourselves away from our screens to go warm something-- anything-- up. We definitely eat better when we're together.
I thank my lucky stars for Second Life, for without it we wouldn't be together at all. Now at least, thanks to cheap airfare, we're physically together about one-quarter of the time. Being virtually together the other three quarters isn't ideal, but I'm grateful for it.
And so from now until I fly home, I'll just relish my time with Sweetie and fix her meals and watch her go to sleep and do my best not to step on the exploding lipsticks that litter the apartment.
Flying Home
I did something stupid today. I booked my flight home on Orbitz. I found a cheap flight ($89 one way), got it set, and checked with Sweetie to make sure the time and day were okay. Then I booked it.
So why did I get a message four hours later saying I had booked the flight a week later than I thought?
I guess it was the subconscious thing. I couldn't bear to part from my dear Sweetie, so my finger jiggled or something. Or something.
Tonight I asked Sweetie to pick up some cilantro at the store on her way home from work. We had guacamole (thank you, Trader Joe's!) and I cut two steaks into thin strips and fried them with garlic. We stuffed steak and cilantro into warm flour tortillas, put the guac and some chips on our plates, and had a simple but tasty supper.
It made me think about how easily the two of us slip into domesticity. I roll out of bed in the morning and fix her breakfast and lunch and have supper ready (or at least ready to begin) when she gets home. I call and ask her to grab some cilantro on her way home. I take her car to get the oil changed or the brakes fixed. She puts a cooler on a spare video card I brought up because her eyesight is better than mine. We drive upstate on Saturday morning so she can make a bank deposit. She looks over my shoulder and rubs my back as I type this.
When it comes time to return home, I hate to go-- and yet I miss my house and am eager to get back to it. I live in two worlds. Well, three, including Second Life.
My house is too small for the both of us and her apartment is too small for the both of us. Real estate is expensive in New York, and we can't see how we could afford to buy a house together, even if I sold mine. But you know, while betwixt and between is perhaps not the ideal state of affairs, it works for us. I get to hold her in my arms and watch her go to sleep one week; the next, we lie down together in our prim bed in the House of 1000 Pleasures. One week I fix Mexican for her, the next week we tear ourselves away from our screens to go warm something-- anything-- up. We definitely eat better when we're together.
I thank my lucky stars for Second Life, for without it we wouldn't be together at all. Now at least, thanks to cheap airfare, we're physically together about one-quarter of the time. Being virtually together the other three quarters isn't ideal, but I'm grateful for it.
And so from now until I fly home, I'll just relish my time with Sweetie and fix her meals and watch her go to sleep and do my best not to step on the exploding lipsticks that litter the apartment.
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