Lazy Sunday

Sunday afternoon I wanted little more than to curl up on the couch under a blanket and read. Read what, I wasn't sure. But a book was certainly involved in my plan.

The other thing I wanted: company. I didn't want that company to actually entertain me, or talk to me, or even share the couch with me. I just wanted another body in the house. So I invited myself over to Bill's (I'm not going to lie—his couches rock way harder than mine (which suck)). He told me I could come over, as long as he was allowed to work. Deal.

I showed up with 3 books and demanded (a) the big couch, and (2) a blanket. I was provided with both, and a glass of water. For the next several hours we just were. I read, he worked, and we both listed to music—loudly. We talked a couple of times, but mostly existed in our own spaces. It was excellent.

At some point dynamics changed and I decided to give Mumsy the customary Sunday phone call. Mumsy and I were chatting and having a good time joking with Bill (who was occasionally on speaker phone). After a while of this banter Mumsy and I were just talking to each other. "When," she asked, perhaps concerned, perhaps worried, perhaps hopeful, "is he going to make an honest woman of you?"

"Not ever," I said. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be reassuring or lamenting, but what it was, was a statement of fact. No, mom. Not ever. No matter how much I may foolishly wish, I am not the woman Bill wants.

After the phone call I went back to reading and Bill went back to work. A few hours later we ate dinner and then put on a movie (which I watched and he half-watched whilst working). After the movie was over I started to get into leaving mode when he suggested another movie, "It's kind of late," I said. "I should probably get going."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

"Unless you want me to stay?" I offered and hoped.

"Uh, you're right. It's late. I'll probably be up late tonight, but yeah." I left. I never really know what is going on in that brain of his.