It’s bedtime in the Garcia household. I know that because Batman has been mow-ing for the past 20 minutes as if to say “da fuq yall?!?” and running into the bedroom anytime I get up from my perch in front of the TV.
Just as well, my fake Aaron Rodgers in Madden just threw two interceptions to fake Richard Sherman and rather than have that documented in the fakeness that is my PS4 memory banks…so I shut it down. Sometimes when I turn a video game off in the middle of a game I like to pretend I’m an angry and spiteful God who has found his creations to be wanting and destroyed their world in one awesome act of power.
Other times, I don’t.
I’d recorded again today with Ethan. It was, as the French say, Le Sweet. We’re getting better each time we do it and Ethan is a whiz when it comes to editing. I’m proud of him and of what we’re creating. It’s silly, but it’s ours.
It’s also a really nice reprieve from the businessman lifestyle that has become more and more of my life lately. I have to business so much now that I sometimes forget how to not business. Which is a nasty business altogether.
When I got home tonight, Stacey wasn’t here. Before you worry, I was aware she wouldn’t be home. It was, as they say in France, Le planned.
She’d had a long day and needed a break and did what she likes to do when she needs one of those. She hit all her favorite stores and ran some errands. It helps her to relax and given that the saying “happy wife, happy life” is truer than most things in this world, I am glad that it does.
It gave me a chance to work out some more, do some laundry, take care of the kittens, watch two episodes of Elementary on CBS (If you don’t watch the show, you should. If you do watch the show then we should hang out more…)
By the time she got home, everything in the house and in her mind was in order and we could get right to kissing hello with little time wasted. She’s my favorite. Outside of maybe Jonny Lee Miller as Sherlock Holmes in CBS’ Elementary…or maybe Aaron Rodgers.
I’M ONLY A MAN.
…anyways. I do love her. Great big gobs of love for her. (Which in restrospect sounds gross, if you’re being gross, which you should stop)
I’d be in a real shit if I had to date someone other than her. Or if I’d never found her all those years ago in her tiny children’s T-shirt and dance pants. (We met in a musical and then again in Musical Theater Dance at Columbia).
We’re coming up on our third year marriage anniversary (I think it’s leather…or maybe it’s garden implements, I can never keep them straight) and our 10th year of being a couple. (Insert “A couple of…” joke here).
We compliment each other. But more importantly, she puts up with me, which if you know me, isn’t always easy. She also lets me kiss her, which is nice because she is nice and good at kissing back.
I’m not sure why I’m writing about her today. I just felt like it’s important for me to say that I’m 100% certain that I’d not be where I am today without having met and subsequently kept her (with effort) in my life.
“she’s ma rock” as they’d say in olden times. “A real treasure” as they’d say in olden pirate times.
So when I lay in bed, two kittens at my feet (or on my head…Lester) Stacey to my right and several completely unusable “decorative” pillows at the foot of the bed. I can’t help but think how lucky I am to be where I am today. On this tiny sliver of an island of bed between cat/wife ocean and the bay of floor.
We’re not all so lucky in love and life to find the person, partner, that we’re supposed to “take on what may” with, but I did. All the happy pills in the world could never do for me what she does.
So I think I’ll keep her…for now.
No, I’m kidding, please don’t leave me.