(I realize the post that follows borders on saccharine. Mea culpa.)
I've been an errant blogger the last few days, which I can only chalk up to the fact that Mondays and Fridays get to work in the wee hours of the morning. By the time I come home, go back to bed and wake up my husband is home and I'm restarting the day once again, minus the sweaty towels and rented shoes.
I was doing errands today, driving around and listening to a mix that Will made me. I'm a music-by-osmosis fan. I don't search new bands out but I'm eager to listen to what intrigues people I know. With each mix he makes me I can hear him in it, I can identify that certain thing that makes a Will song. And to say that I am thoroughly charmed by my husband is the apex of understatement.
We haven't had an easy time of it lately: I'm scrambling for cash and performing CPR on my career, he's less than thrilled with his job and dealing with a one-man monkey band zipping through his synapses. It hasn't been us so much as stuff that's been getting between us. Saturday afternoon I heard him knocking about in the kitchen and went to investigate.
I was thinking we haven't had any fun lately, he told me.
True.
We need to change that.
I agree.
The fun starts now.
And it did. After dinner we headed down to Redondo Beach, to the Fun Factory, where we played pinball and Defender and skee ball and ate ice cream and didn't worry so much. It's not like anything has really changed. I've got career and money issues to worry about. He's still not feeling quite himself. But as I watched him get ready for work this morning I was filled with the thought that anything is possible. And I'm incredibly lucky that we get to figure it out together.
