Well, the eleventh anniversary came and went (on Friday). I did not nag the husband person about arriving home late (maybe because it was early by his standards, 9 pm). We had wished each other a little after midnight at any rate (I was 95% asleep, 5% awake, I assume I said Happy Eleventh and not Hschumbel Eshumfle). The monster and I had picked up a pink carnation in our walk through the muck to the library the previous night. We proudly handed it to him in the morning. He handed it right back to me and that put behind us the exchange of romantic and pink things in view of the anniversary thing. He said Yeah I will definitely be home in time for dinner. I did not quip 'Whose dinner? Monster's? (8 pm) Mine? (9 pm) or Yours (??? pm/am)'
Tons of people called in the morning. I suspect it was the usual suspects - parents, aunts, uncles, such like. I (sorry folks!) ignored quite a few of them because I was in what can only be terms 'morning school frenzy' which is a complicated military-like manouvre (fuck, what is the spelling of this word?) whose primary aim is to let me get my exercise/blog-fix without acquiring the label of bad mommy (who allows her child to be late for school). Anyway they all SMS-ed me and I replied back (I hope I replied to all the messages!) on my ride into the campus.
The day flowed as days usually flow these days with phone calls and meetings and people arriving late for meetings and examinations and a general feeling of work piling up and never finishing. By the time I did the reverse manouvre (damn it! i really have to figure this spelling out the red lines underneath are driving me crazy. Or is that Krazzy? GAK! I am losing it. Or am I loosing it?) of getting her home and listening to her whine about how I (a) never take her to the exhibition (which is the really irritating set of Korean sounding rides and bumpy cars we pass on our way home everyday) (b) never let her visit her friends (with whom she spends nearly the entire day) and (c) I always say that (whatever it might be that I say. Apparently consistency is over-rated). Homework. My dinner (yeah I eat the roti part of my dinner at 6:30, its healthy, I eat it with vegetables). Fruit. Folding clothes. Some ironing. Some surfing. At 8 pm, I mustered remaining energy for the monster's dinner. By 9 pm I had a roaring headache. All I wanted to do was curl up and sleep. I wanted to hear nothing. No voices. No noises. No music. Definitely No TV.
We contemplated that eleven years is a real long time. So lucky etc. Sorry I could not bring flowers. Oh no you should not bother. I feel bad for the flowers. Plus they pack it in too much plastic. It causes me carbon footprint stress. You want to go out somewhere. Nope. Head hurts. Go sleep then. Yeah, have signed up to go for a run early tomorrow morning. Well, I have to work tomorrow. Thats OK, we will go to the grocery store together in the morning, and I will take a nap. Will need it with this headache and the run tomorrow. Yeah OK. Good night then.
& That, was That.
It was good. My headache was gone in the morning. The run was good. The rain held off till I got home. We hung out a lot through the weekend anyhow. I pulled a marathon ironing session through, completely avoided the idiot box, finished reading 'A married woman' & 'The cleft,' yada yada. The twelfth year starts and I can only hope for more growth, more appreciation of the moments we have, and, when things look bleak, recall the monster in her moments, saying 'this is downright beautiful'