Things I did this week included swimming (a lot), jumping off the cliff to supplement the pills (a lot-they work really well but then ten percent of the time they don't work and I panic and revert), watching true crime documentaries by the handful, and for the crowning achievement I stood in a dusty parking lot under a tree eating my first ever shawarma and guarding a found shattered cell phone until I was finished, after which I scooped up the phone and took it to a makeshift lost and found where they threw it in a box with ten others and I left, contemplating just offering to buy the shawarma truck and bring it to my driveway, where I could get one whenever I like. Don't even laugh. It gave me massive amounts of deja vu from the midway and I loved every second of it.
What's up? Caleb's head pops up next to my huge inflatable watermelon slice, where I float and burn, float and cry. Float and count my blessings, float and wish for food.
I'm thinking we need a food truck festival in the driveway.
When would you like it to be? (God, he's better than Santa Claus)
Every day!
He laughs and pushes off, leaving me bumping against the side. I'll consider it.
The pool isn't big enough to get away from him, sadly. They've retracted the whole end of the glass birdcage for the rest of the summer and will enclose again in September, I think. It's not a small operation and so we had to have a referendum on it but the boys won out even with the mosquitos and I do agree now, the fresh air is better than the weird chlorinated humid air trapped in a dome.
For a brief time I relished the snowglobe effect, I admit. I like to tilt-shift everything and then it matches me better.
Want to grab a late brunch?
Maybe. Do I have to get dressed?
Yes. I don't do drive-throughs.
Give me an hour?
I can give you whatever you want.
Of course. Of Course.