The other day I arrived home with a message to deliver to Benjamin. I had been mentally clutching it all afternoon, and since this was the first time I laid eyes on him since breakfast it came out before hello.
"I need you to rotate your laundry so that I can wash towels."
"Nice to see you too."
Really? I could not manage a quick interchange about how meals on wheels went? Or how he was feeling about his plans with Zack?
One time I saw a friend who lives across the country. We went out for brunch, and the words that spilled out of my mouth were mostly a diatribe about things that will not matter in seventy two hours. I probably won't see her again for a year at least. Yet I chose to clutter our visit with complaints.
Hand written letters are more scarce than they used to be. But when I do write them I am inclined to chose topics that are worthy of a stamp.
Maybe I could pretend that it costs a dollar every time I speak to John. Then I would be more inclined to skip over the nagging and get to the good part.
