I had a moment of extreme and uncharacteristic selfishness and said everything I wanted to say out loud. Then I felt the warning waves of regret and that was that. I made my apologies and maybe was forgiven, but probably not. I was told I was and so I tried to just be gracious after that, but really, right now I want my husband and I want us to have our lucky penny day for a while because everyone else has had turn after turn while we build character with cinderblocks of suffering and determination and I'm fucking done. I'm going to sit up here on top of our character castle which is taller than that new tower in Dubai, and I'll swing my bare feet in the wind until someone drops their penny.
Then I will dive for it.
I think that's what Jacob must have done. He missed, or someone with better reflexes grabbed it up quickly, I guess.
After my (un)likely outburst I threw myself into making it up, turning and making it a nice day for my kids, who did not witness my ability to act younger than they do sometimes. We took the dog for a long walk, went to the store for some interim groceries and chocolate bars too, came home and played a game, made our own pizzas (because Ruth is picky and Henry likes pineapple and I like everything) and then watched Night At the Museum on cable. Now they are tucked in and I'm soon to take the dog outside to the backyard for a final survey of the property before it gets much later.
I wish I had some capacity to risk everything on a penny but I don't. I'll wait for one to find me. Otherwise it's just a harder task to finish building this damn tower so I can give it away and hope for a better position in phase three as I like to call it. Maybe Pacifica will stick. Maybe it will be awesome. Maybe I'll get stuck in a million-dollar mortgage and starve. Maybe pigs will fly and pennies will rain down from heaven and I will be blinded and have copper bruises.
It can't be any worse. It will most definitely be better. I will go crazy in the meantime, however and that's what freaks me out most. I still count the minutes between the furnace blowing. I wait for lights to go out. I watch the temperatures fluctuating between OhmyChristalmighty and bearable. I pass every single hour in silent witness and I try not to cry because I miss Ben so much at some moments that I find it hard to breathe and impossible to collect myself.
Maybe no one gets that the waiting is the hardest part. Maybe they think I am spoiled and petulant and I should be excited. I will be, as soon as I am done waiting and done missing and done going insane. I will just try to do it via the old Bridget-method. If they aren't here to witness it, we can all pretend it doesn't exist.
Self-control is an art form and not one of my particular talents. I am too buys looking for pennies, dropped on the road.
