You want to go out tonight?
This from Ed. He rarely asks and when he does, I rarely say yes. But today he asked and I said yes. True, it's a cold day and I do have a lot of work before me today and tomorrow, but I want that evening out so very much -- that time when we sit at the counter of a bar, eat mussels and french fries and occasionally (but not too frequently) comment about the state of our lives.
Because the weather has been so un-spring like and because of the various sniffles passing through the farmhouse, we haven't done much of our outdoor routines this year. We hide behind computer screens and we keep odd sleeping hours. Sometimes they overlap, oftentimes they do not.
But there are always the meals.
...the dinners. Sometimes lunches, or pickles at Paul's, or anytime anywhere, when food seems right and we seem ready for it. But dinners stand out because they are, after all, longest and if by chance we eat that meal out, it always becomes, therefore, important.
After dinner out, evening routines set in. We lose ourselves behind computer screens again and if I look up to see if perhaps there is some sweet little flick on TV (it's rare for either of us to think of TV as providing entertainment), I'm likely to see instead a scientific expose on the working of a machine lever or a pig gut. (Ed will turn on a science show whenever he thinks I'm not really paying attention.)
The rain continues. We hear it against the roof upstairs. A lovely sound. Especially if we're indoors with a quilt pulled high up against the chin.