(Lochlan had a full day of errands to run today out in the valley and so he left me to the Creative Facial Hair Club members. I will exact payback when I feel better.)
Death approaches slowly, walking in sock feet, not making a sound as it advances across the room and crawls into my throat and sinuses. My temperature rockets to a hundred but it's not enough to fry this clear and present danger, intent being to leave no survivors, and no trace that it was ever here.
Today I wandered around the vintage stores in a feverish daze while Daniel tried to get me to approve or dismiss everything he held up. I find four more Louis Vuittons (one real) and a whole herd of Coach bags and a Fendi too. He found a jacket Ruth would love. I just couldn't get my act together to feel good enough to care or buy anything in the end but he managed to drag me to four more stores and then suggest I stop at the insurance company (our broker sold out, ergo new paperwork ten times over) to drop off new cheques so I did that and then I cried Uncle. I wanted soup so we...came home.
Because in Daniel's sheltered universe, BRIDGET makes the soup.
Huh? We could have stopped at five different delis on the way home but instead he just assumed I would feel well enough to make a big lunch.
He went home in a huff, hungry and I threw the bag of clothes he bought right out the door after him. We both miss Ben. Daniel is a closet brat though. He won't admit that something's wrong, he just acts all twitchy and belligerent until I boot him out and then in three or four hours (the time it takes to watch two rom-coms and drink half a bottle of wine alone) he'll slink back over with a big case of the sorries and the Iloveyous. He's nothing like Ben when it comes to fighting. He turtles without any effort at all. It's almost disappointing to argue with him but if it's all the same to you I'd rather not.
Duncan took over control of Princess Ickynose Duty and made soup for me, putting it in my big Chococat mug with a spoon and a bubble-tea straw, on a tray with juice and crackers and then snuggled in with me on the couch with a whole box of tissues to watch The Man Who Laughs. I drank the soup, almost fell asleep and promised myself to campaign for a remake of the film that follows the book a little more closely.
Duncan swore he'll have nightmares for the rest of his life.
I apologized for sneezing on him, but he said that wasn't what he meant.
He turned off the television and the DVD player, closed the curtains and instructed me to sleep until close to dinner time. I obliged willingly and also vowed to someday maybe marry him too, if time permits, since he's surprisingly nurturing for someone so blindingly cool.
