Wrong Answer

My husband told me that we have luna moths that fly in dipping, circular patterns all night. Luna moths are magical, like fire flies. When I got up to pee, I looked out the window, and sure enough, they were there flying and dipping in circular patterns.

My husband makes me crazy. We are so different. One of the kids’ friends calls us Yin and Yang. I have never loved anyone as much as I love him. I yell at him because he can’t hear what I’m saying. I forget his hearing is gone. I miss it. He wants a gun, like in the North Hollywood shoot out. That happened in 1997. I don’t recall. He’s going to buy a big weapon that makes a sloooow machine gun sound. That’s not the death I’m dreaming of.

Climate change and global water depletion, I can’t stand to think of it. I’m overwhelmed. I want to smoke cigarettes again. I don’t want to hurt another living thing. The Singaporeans are on the forefront of desalination. I love where we live, in the middle of a beautiful, isolated, blueberry patch beside Route 1. Nothing is forever. I ordered 7 new bras. I don’t have a choice, no stores. Oprah is a LIAR. The bras don’t fit.

Counting Crows- “We can take it nice and slow. Are you happy where you’re sleeping? All your life is such a shame, shame, shame. All your love is just a dream dream.” This is different. When we first met I promised him we’d always have the breeze, the soft breeze that blows sheer white curtains in the window. Now he wants that deadly weapon. We can’t see. He can’t hear. I don’t know. WTF? My husband prays for work. His prayers are answered. He prays for it for all of us. The phone rings. As I recently mentioned to my blogging friend, PMAO, the perception and expression of love varies.

I’d like a cigarette. I remembered the other day, once I  knew a boy whom I loved. He told me that there were things in his life that were none of my business. Wrong answer.