Today, I accidentally fell asleep on my couch at five am. I was supposed to be staying up to finish up a website and some other client work, but sleep won.
We’re going through a tough time right now, just many external things going on that are sort of pushing in from all sides. Yet we are connecting and communicating really well. Saturday night, we stayed up all night having a fascinating conversation about foreign policy and the Civil War. Sunday, I took him aside and said “Look. Things are tough right now. They’ll pass, they always do. Let’s do ourselves the favour of not getting mired down in this bullshit and thinking that it’s the end of the world. And please, let’s not stop talking and close ourselves off. We can handle this.” I was more talking to my reflection in his eyes than to him, exactly, but since then we’ve gone on walks, had a fabulous dinner of aglia e olio with cabernet sauvignon, and just enjoyed each other’s company. I think we are getting the hang of this grown up relationship thing.
I’m catching up slowly on my client work, and instituting “process” for getting things done. J. and I are using project management software to handle our current projects, and I’m trying to get the mountain of work under control so that I can institute enough of a schedule to plan for things like, oh, sleep (see above). Sunday was a write off, workwise, but I went and saw Big Fish and hung out with my friends and relaxed for a full two hours (except the thirty minutes I was weeping at the movie, but I anticipated that).
There was a moment at the end of the film, when the credits were rolling and all eight of us were milling about in the aisles discussing it while we waited that I thought about how wonderful it was to be standing there at that moment. The twins were charming me with their little thoughtfulnesses (E. brought a whole stack of Kleenex! Smart girl) and their commiserations on how we were all crying so hard and worried that we would be heard and I just felt peaceful and connected and content. And weepy still. In fact, it took me a full eight hours to stop welling up any time I thought about any part of Jessica Lange’s performance. I had crashed E.’s film class back in October, and she and I were discussing how the ending was similar and dissimilar to 8 1/2. Then we made plans for me to crash more film classes this semester, same instructor, only this time with Hitchcock as the theme. Hooray!
If I can get my mother’s birthday card sent tomorrow and connect with the friend I mentioned last week, then I’ll feel good about how this week turned out, even if we end up living at the farm at the end of it.