Grown up tricks

Feeling obligated to write yet far from insightful.
The laundry is on a conveyer belt which follows me from room to room.
It snakes through my life.   It is never finished.
I just manteled myself up over the washing maching and lowered my legs into the thin slot between the machine and the wall.
I dropped the scoop for the detergent down there.
Quite an agile move for a 33 year-old woman.
10 years worth of lint grasped at my bare thighs as they slid down the wall.
Gross.
I cringed when my toes hit the floor.  There's gotta be a dead mouse down there.
It seemed I would pop his head with my foot.  Nope.  Solid concrete.
I reached down with my big toes and pinched the laundry scoop, then slowly brought it up to my hand.
Yet another good trick.
All this so I can continue on as a slave to the conveyer belt.
I thought about just leaving the scoop down there, but then the laundry would stink and fill up with ants.
If I leave a pile on the floor for longer than a week it grows ants.  I don't know how.

All night I've been  trying to decide if my shorts fit tighter.
I've changed my mind about 16 times.
I finally decided that since I can't be sure, it may not actually be happening.

Andrew went to watch the UFC fights.
I wanted to go with him so bad.
Like the ache for a sleepover with my best friend in 7th grade on a Friday night.
I didn't get to go.
Someone had to stay home with the kids.

I used to go watch the fights when we were first dating.
I'd fold my legs up into a wad on the couch.
I'd sit in his armpit and pretend to care.
I actually hate watching those guys hurt each other.
I wonder if they're Moms watch.  I wouldn't.
But I loved that spot with Andrew on the couch.
I love how the men act like little boys and get all riled up.
I love being quiet in the midst of their yelling.
It makes me smile.
It's an odd thing to love, but that's how love is.  It makes no sense.  It is simple sensory delight.
Like how I still want to eat Andrew's breath sometimes.
I wanted to eat it tonight, but he left.

So I took a bath and shaved my legs.
Sophie sat on the edge of the tub with her feet in it, getting her jeans wet.
She read her book and told me to stop splashing the pages.
"You're the one who decided to read your book in the bath," I scolded.
But I was glad she was there.

Now the house is quiet, and I will go to sleep.
I have to sleep in a lot of clothes when Andrew's not here.  I get cold.

The Honeymoon year 2006.
 Andrew watching me be weird with food at the OP restaurant and hopefully adoring me...perhaps not.