she likes the plate with the crack in it the best. it reminds her of all the things imperfect, cracked household items are supposed to remind her of. the fragility of life, nothing lasting forever, and even though not perfect her plate is still perfectly functional. she likes the hollow sound her fork makes as she scrapes and stabs across the ceramic break. sometimes she lingers over whatever vegetable or meat happens to be nearest the break, twirling her food back and forth, wondering if tonight when she submerges the plate in scalding water it will be the last. the plate has become a symbol for everything she wants to last forever but knows will not.
they take their dishes to the cluttered kitchen. she wishes for more space. nature seems to tease her as she looks out the kitchen window at the acres and acres of unusable space. not that she'd want to use that beautiful prairie outside, mind you, but this room was not meant to be a kitchen. the outlets are never where she needs them and she trips nearly every morning over extension cords and power strips. how did she get into this electric jungle? her foggy mind always forgets the landscape of the kitchen over night and must remember again every morning where the right places are for stepping and landing. its quaint, their kitchen, and she likes it, but should their rental become a more permanent residence, there would need to be major changes which her scattered brain cannot think about right now.
she wishes for one moment they could go back to their old life. their old house, their old kitchen, their old friends. she will always wish this, no matter how much she knows it won't happen. going back is not an option. progress is in a westward direction and she feels the pull. she is half way there, wherever she is going. she hopes they can go together into their sunset.
blah, blah, blah.... now that i've bored you to death.... sorry for not updating too much. the interwebs are an like an endangered species out here and by the time i'm off from my brain-draining job all i can pretty much do is drink a beer (or 4), make dinner, clean up, make lunch for tomorrow (so we don't have to go out and eat crap), and fall asleep.
the job isn't so bad. i like the people i work with as i get to know them more and more. they're pretty interesting, but i still feel like i'm looking down on someone else's life. this is a theme drew and i talk about a lot. being here, in kansas, feels like we're either a. in a bad movie circa 1995 or b. a nightmare. hahaha. my experience at the DMV was like a bad movie. the line is about 10 people long. i'm stuck behind obese grandpa with the yellowed teeth, cracked fingernails, and googly eyeballs. i'm glad he was wearing close-towed shoes otherwise i'm pretty sure his toenails would have made me barf. he was super chatty and i'm always up for a good random chat, but really after about 45 minutes, it just got old and i had to leave because my lunch break was over. ugh.... some other time i'll elaborate on the strange people out here. until that post, just picture drew and i living in a town full of carnies. (carnival people)
spring is coming. i can feel it. i can smell it. i can even hear it in the mornings! yay
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