Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Playing House ...

So, I stayed.

As if there were really any doubt that I would? As if the prospect of returning to my own empty bed would somehow win out over spending another night under my new down blanket?

: o )

Of course it's not about the blanket. It's about the boy.

G called in the afternoon yesterday, wondering if I was on my way home or if I had decided to stay.

"Well, I'm in your living room," I said. "I'm going to stay. Is that OK?"

"Sure," he said. He had a farewell dinner for a colleague, but he wasn't sure if he was going to go.

"Well, don't not go on my account," I said. "Don't change your plans for me. I'm not going anywhere."

He said he'd call me later and let me know what he was up to, which he did. And we decided that he'd go for a drink with the colleagues and then come home and we'd have a late dinner.

Of course, that required deciding what to do about dinner.

After some deliberation, I allowed that I had gone to Whole Foods earlier in the day.

"Oh!" he seemed to say with some excitement. "Did you get anything we can use for dinner?"

Actually, I did. I selfishly bought a pork tenderloin, in the event that he'd be kind enough to make his pork with sherry pepper cream sauce. I also bought mixed greens for salad and some blue cheese, because blue cheese is always a good idea, and a wedge of Wesleydale cheese, the kind eaten by Wallace of "Wallce and Gromit," because I had said to G that morning, as he put cheese on his toast, "You really are Wallace," and he said, "No, I'm not, because I've never had Wesleydale cheese," so when I saw it at Whole Paycheck, I had to buy it.

I put the salads together and got the pork underway, with his instructions. When he got home, I said, "I bought something for you today," and showed him the label on the cheese.

He read it and a huge smile crossed his face.

"How cute am I?" I asked, rhetorically.

He answered me with a kiss.

Dinner was lovely, as ever. Candlelight, wine, U2. No wonder I dream about Bono. The pork was napped with a Gorgonzola sauce, though. A spur-of-the-moment G creation.

He said that he had some work to do, about a half hour's worth.

"Take your wine," I said. "Go work. I'll clean up."

He shook his head. "I'll help you."

"Why? You have work to do. I can take care of this."

So I did. He hunkered down in front of his computer in the bedroom and I busied myself in the kitchen, and I was struck by how much I liked the everydayness of it.

The kitchen squared away, I got ready for bed. Contacts out, glasses on. Teeth brushed, hair brushed, PJs. Got in bed under the new blanket with my book while he continued to clack away.

He got ready for bed later, donning his long-sleeve T-shirt and sweats-like pants. Climbed in next to me and I turned out the light.

I worked at home today but I'll be heading back there tomorrow for a couple days. I have work to do near his place, and it makes sense for me to stay.

And, sense aside, I want to be there.

Making up for lost time.


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