Doorbells and pomegranates

No matter how I try to spin the day – to make light of it – it refuses to be described as anything except a hard one – I thought about talking about sparkling water and how much better it is than plain old water or how Jess confessed that there aren’t many of her sock pairs left, though she denies she had anything to do with their absence – but it all feels quite false. The truth is that today my wife rearranged her very busy day so that she could have a few minutes to sit with me on the bed – to talk to me and let me cry. When we were done, she made us sandwiches and then, despite a very long to-do list, I took myself to bed for a nap, next to my sleeping daughter.

I don’t think you’ve come here to only read about the good days. Maybe you’re here to also hear about the tough ones. Maybe it’s okay to admit that I’m exhausted today. It’s okay to tell you that when I ordered Checkers 60 and the bread didn’t arrive (the whole purpose of the order), it felt catastrophic. To know that when the doorbell rang (it is usually unplugged) for the second Checkers 60 order (for the bread again) it infuriated me (the doorbell, not the bread – give me all the bread). Then my dog started barking incessantly on account of the doorbell – doorbell = intruders. Between all this, a number of people tried to call me unsolicited. That’s a good word to describe the day – unsolicited.

Okay, goodnight now. I did take a photograph today – of the courtyard (it didn’t quite work) and of our fruit bowl but really, what do pomegranates have to do with today. Fuck all. It was just a desperate last-minute attempt to maintain writing and a photograph every day, for a year. 23 for 23. Here is that pomegranate, looking a bit smug – more ornament than food. If anyone has any ideas as to what to do with it, please share. Don’t talk to me if your idea is floating it in champagne.

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