I can hear the furnace humming quietly, probably because the cold air return is on the wall behind my desk. I can hear the ticking of the dishwasher as it warms the plates, because my desk is in a nook just off the kitchen. I hear a dog barking on a nearby street and Bonham is holding guard by the front door waiting for Ben and the children, who have gone shopping. I am supposed to be wrapping presents while they're gone but clearly I am not.
Today was a little rockier to begin. Not sure if we stayed up too late or it was just excess tension to blow off but we all started off on the wrong foot and I got very frustrated with some things that don't work and made a tearful plea for Ben to quit the mood swings and just fix everything please because I am tired of the pressure.
He is. Working away at it as we speak.
He waited a while to see what I would do but I don't have the capacity for patience anymore, I will go at it the hard way until I just can't manage it anymore and I reach that point where it's fucking stupid and pointless and no more.
There aren't enough hours in the day to fix things and yet there are enough hours to mess things up and break everything and become so frustrated I can't stop the hot tears that ruin my mascara and everyone's smiles in one go. I can't help it, it's been like this for a long time and it takes forever to come out of and really I'm laughing at the same time because it's ridiculous. I am blessed. The complaints would be welcome issues anywhere else and yet I have insurance against anything that goes wrong, so then when it does it will be the end of the world because that's precisely what I insured against, correct?
If only life worked that way, princess.
It should. I've earned it.
Sorry, baby. It isn't possible. It's called life.
Everyone makes it look easy.
They're better actors, that's all. Maybe your gift is that you give people permission to be honest and feel comfortable because you come to them with your heart on your sleeve and your guard already down.
I want to be an actor. Everyone can marvel at my perfection and the ease with which I live.
This is met with long, raucous laughter. I am annoyed.
Stop it, Jake.
I can't help it. You have the most fascinating thought-process.
I don't think it belongs to me, I must have picked it up along the way. I don't know how it works and therefore I can't control it. It's not mine.
It's the honesty, that's all. You never had a poker face.
Then that will be my resolution for the new year.
To learn to lie? That isn't a very good resolution, Bridget.
What would you suggest then?
Start writing again. Do the things that make you YOU.
You think learning the art of deception will be easier?
Works for everyone else.
Oh, Bridget, give up now. You'll never be anyone else.
And you say my thoughts are strange.