Marriage is a solid reminder that you are on equal footing. Or it should be. Because you never know when the tables will be turned. Like Monday, when I had to ask my wife to run to the store and buy me some panty liners. Not a thing I have ever intended to say in my life.
Not just the little summer drizzle. The kind of rain that builds into a rhythmic melody on the roof and on the windows.
I’m sitting here in my parents’ kitchen drinking a big mug of green tea staring at a counter full of vegetables I want to ferment.
The Friday before I return to work after an overextended hiatus.
I thought about going back to bed after I dropped my daughter off at school. The sound of the rain and the thought of laying there under the covers and drifting off to the pitter patter of water on window was extremely hard to resist.
The only reason I didn’t, is because I know that next week I will completely rely on routine to get me through the week.
By that, I mean it’s in the mid-seventies, and the sun is shining and the trees have that look about them. That look they get just before they start to change their colors.
It’s imperceptible, just the lightest downgrade from summer’s dark green but not quite as verdant as spring. If you look carefully, you can watch summer’s slow demise every day.
It’s not fall yet, but the dog days are over. The perfect in-between.
My brother texts and says he has some things to finish around the farm, but that we can hit the river at 1:30.
I run around frantically looking through storage for my bass gear, before remembering that it was twenty years ago that I put together a nice bait caster with a 6 foot super stiff rod that could lift smallies and largemouth from the river like a crane.