Good morning. I've crossed over from mildly sleep-deprived into fully narco-haptic now, and am being watched like a late-stage dementia patient for doing things like trying to put the honey in my purse instead of in the cupboard and trying and failing to remember Ben's name when he greeted me today with the sun.
They don't take any of it personally and so Sam asked me to name three things I am grateful for this morning. I start it all off the same way, every time, by naming names and he stops me seven names in, because I can't count today either and maybe my tiny little twisted buns are too tight. Maybe my leggings are too tight. I think my skin is too tight. Fuck it. I get to the end of my list and glare at him. He says Name other things besides us, because his name was in there too.
I'm craving Pho. I think that might be a good birthday lunch this year.
That isn't gratitude, but I'll indulge you. What would you have for dinner then?
Ramen.
(Because noodles. Bowls and bowls of noodles.)
Breakfast?
Coffee and cold pizza leftover from birthday-eve.
I like the way you snuck another request in there.
Gotta compound these things, Sam.
What do you want for your birthday?
Someone to come and Feng Shui the house.
You're serious.
Incredibly. We need it.
Okay. I'll uh...what do I do? This is not in my....uh...sphere of influence.
Easy, silly. You pray for a Feng Shui master to appear.
Like magic, then.
No, like faith.
What's the difference?
HA! EXACTLY.
I think you need a nap.
I just got up!
I think you're sleep-talking.
That would actually be cool.
Not from my point of view.
Your 'sphere', you mean.
Go back to bed, Bridget.
