Perhaps I like the rainy days lately because it makes me feel like most annoying people are washed away, along with all their annoying expectations, and I can do anything I want. The dog may disagree, but it goes double for the days spent with my husband. We woke up, on a rare Saturday left alone, all our errands cancelled. It was only a matter of moments before I insisted we spend it in the library and flipping through pages of rented books in my favourite cafe.
.... Okay, so this may not have been his idea of heaven, but he'll get the rest of the day off, so...(Especially if we have to go see a terribly masculine movie, which I will only endure because it's his turn to pick and I get the bucket of popcorn to shut up...)
I won't write again about how good I feel among books. That's just like saying I like breathing air. But it gives me a special kick to see how much he likes it, and he lets me guide him to his shelves of preference while I rummage around for random stuff that catches my fancy. The irony is I already had the book I wanted to read in the bag from before - Lovecraft's short stories, but after I left he had to carry a NASA photography of the year, 'full History of Gestapo', 'How to insult someone in ancient Latin', 'At first there was hydrogen', 'Portrait photography, a history' and 'The sixth extinction' again, because I want to re-read it from another perspective ...
We got a dozen books altogether and ordered the perfect coffee and yummy cakes and spend about an hour, alone in the cafe with glass walls, looking out into the rain, in silence, reading. This is perfection to me. I sit so close that my knee touches his and he's warm and serene in the face and flips vehemently and steals my food when he thinks I am not looking. At some point, while he was going through the article of a hypocrite clergyman now found guilty of several paternity tests and I was flipping through NASA photos of Earth, I said to him: "I don't understand glaciers. I know they are important for something and they are kind of interesting, I just don't know why that is, yet."
And then you have the General, his estraordinary face, his large, bright green eyes blinking and trying to make sense of what I just uttered ... here, smack in the middle of the real world. He says: "There they are, all the glaciers of this world and every other that may be, somewhere, thinking right this instant - there's a tiny redhaired fart machine, sipping coffee on a rainy saturday morning, saying she doesn't understand us yet. ... Well, stop your perennial grinding of those dumb old rocks and do something about that..."
.... makes that coffee and cakes kind of mundane by comparisson, really.
.... Okay, so this may not have been his idea of heaven, but he'll get the rest of the day off, so...(Especially if we have to go see a terribly masculine movie, which I will only endure because it's his turn to pick and I get the bucket of popcorn to shut up...)
I won't write again about how good I feel among books. That's just like saying I like breathing air. But it gives me a special kick to see how much he likes it, and he lets me guide him to his shelves of preference while I rummage around for random stuff that catches my fancy. The irony is I already had the book I wanted to read in the bag from before - Lovecraft's short stories, but after I left he had to carry a NASA photography of the year, 'full History of Gestapo', 'How to insult someone in ancient Latin', 'At first there was hydrogen', 'Portrait photography, a history' and 'The sixth extinction' again, because I want to re-read it from another perspective ...
We got a dozen books altogether and ordered the perfect coffee and yummy cakes and spend about an hour, alone in the cafe with glass walls, looking out into the rain, in silence, reading. This is perfection to me. I sit so close that my knee touches his and he's warm and serene in the face and flips vehemently and steals my food when he thinks I am not looking. At some point, while he was going through the article of a hypocrite clergyman now found guilty of several paternity tests and I was flipping through NASA photos of Earth, I said to him: "I don't understand glaciers. I know they are important for something and they are kind of interesting, I just don't know why that is, yet."
And then you have the General, his estraordinary face, his large, bright green eyes blinking and trying to make sense of what I just uttered ... here, smack in the middle of the real world. He says: "There they are, all the glaciers of this world and every other that may be, somewhere, thinking right this instant - there's a tiny redhaired fart machine, sipping coffee on a rainy saturday morning, saying she doesn't understand us yet. ... Well, stop your perennial grinding of those dumb old rocks and do something about that..."
.... makes that coffee and cakes kind of mundane by comparisson, really.
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