In which? IN THE SPIRIT!
In the spirit of my yesterday writing, here are relatively trivial items I’m happy with:
- Frolicking in the snow with Partner at 10pm yesterday in Central Park.
- I acquired a stick. A great stick. A passerby said, “That’s a great stick, man.” Some sticks are great.
- Partner and I scaled the steps atop the ice rink. We passed two late-20s men who smelled like weed and soap. “Stay safe,” one of them told us. “Make sure you get out.”
- Partner & I both remarked how similar New York City is to Burning Man.
- At the ice rink, a worker used a snowblower to shift snow from atop the ice to another place atop the ice. Then he used the snowblower to shift the snow back to its original location. I’m still not sure what he’s trying to accomplish. I suspect he either is failing or paid hourly.
- I awoke at 6:30am thinking about all the quotidian aspects I’ve been enjoying.
- The review of 8 contracts for home renovators.
- The simple pleasure of being able to host.
- The comedy of being awoken by a THUNK-THUNK-THUNK at 6:30am and immediately fearing it’s someone banging on the door of your van, then recalling you haven’t lived in a van for almost a year.
- It’s still not clear what caused the THUNK-THUNK-THUNK. Snow falling? Radiators clanging? Someone actually knocking on our door? My hypothesis: GREMLINS!
- The sadness + regret for leaving your bedding with the man who bought your van, him promising to deliver it to you in New York when you closed on the house. He delivered it well enough. But he also washed one of the blankets, a dry-clean-only item that had been a gift from dear friends in Texas, and which will now never be as soft as it once was.
- The memory of accidentally doing a similar thing to another friend’s blanket. I borrowed it for a picnic; it acquired burrs, and I began picking them out by hand. Wanting to avoid me the trouble of picking them all out, he washed it and it developed piles. I don’t really blame yourself for the actual ruining of it: I would have picked it back to pristine. But the spirit is similar. 😔
- Partner: “Can you squish…” and points downward. I start squeezing her right foot. She laughs. “Can you squish the ottoman toward me? I like the default to the footrub, though. I do usually request that as, ‘Could you squish my feet?’”
- In Central Park, Partner said, “What’s that?” And pointed at the ground. I inspected. She clarified: “No, that!”. I looked closer. She grabbed a hunk of snow with her arms and shoveled it in my face.
- On 105th street, between Columbus and Amsterdam, Partner & I walked by some strangers. They had been throwing snowballs at each other. One of them asked, “Snowball fight?” as he walked past. Partner & I kept walking. Then three steps later, I wheeled around and whipped a snowball at him. We attacked back and forth for a while, until a man approached our makeshift war and said, “please don’t hit me with one of those.” We paused the thirty seconds for him to pass, then threw more snowballs at each other.
- An hour later, Partner happened upon these same strangers while walking down the street. One of them yelled “That’s our enemy!” and the fight reprised.
Ahh. Are these not the joys of life?
(I also completed 4 financial administrative tasks of necessity: opening a credit card; moving a bank account; creating an LLC; closing an LLC. But those, dear reader, are the mere mechanics that allow life’s joys to whir.)
Julian Wise 