Nothing to Say

The good news is that my husband took care of our moth situation. When I got home tonight, he was standing in the kitchen with a satisfied and victorious look in his eye. His proud body posture said everything about the empty kitchen cabinets above the refrigerator and the cereal boxes lining the kitchen counter. If I had come in the front door, I would have seen the moth-infested boxes lined up out there. That’s the reward for stocking up on half-priced cereal–a moth invasion.

Thank goodness I have this wonderful man in my life who is even-tempered and doesn’t take these setbacks too seriously. Before he came along, I used to have a strict policy that I could not own more possessions than could fill up a box. I liked that on a moment’s impulse, if things became desperate or awful enough, I could fill up the 240, and disappear in the middle of the night, leaving behind all my tedious troubles and annoyances to create brand new ones somewhere else. Probably because I allowed myself permission to fantasize about running away, I never needed to act on the urge. Lately though the imagery of my Nissan stacked with my few treasured belongings has been popping back into my consciousness. The difference now is that my husband is in the passenger’s seat. That means I’d have to leave behind quite a stack of sweaters, so I hope he appreciates what he means to me. There will still be indentations in the melted asphalt where my tires briefly passed over. That part of the fantasy remains the same.

Anyway, tomorrow will be a brand new day and the sun will continue to rise and set. When I look at these pictures, there’s not a trace of me or my miniscule problems in this huge cosmos, so why worry about them.

Until I can figure out something interesting to say, you should broaden your horizons and take a look at these new fashions from Paris. There’s one dress that my husband very much likes and hopes catches on. See if you can figure out which one it is.