In this house, certain rituals must occur before bedtime:
*My husband and I stare at the ceiling and express impotent fury at our (absent) contractor, who is now three months off-schedule, and who disappears for days on end. We quote him: "I'll keep you apprised." "I'm in a meeting." "As per our discussion...."
*We then mock the friend who recently found it exhausting to empathize, and who instead launched into an unsolicited monologue about home repair: "What you have to understand about contractors is that....."
*My husband asks me about popular culture, and I try to answer in a way that is respectful but firm. "As a gay man, you really, really must know a few things about Edie Falco...."
*We discuss our various pills. TUMS if the most recent meal was BBQ. Klonopin if sleep seems evasive. XYZal because it keeps one's allergies at bay--and also it's maybe extra Klonopin in disguise?
It's these events I think I'll remember most fondly thirty years from now. And then: the lights go out.
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