So, FB is accessible this morning to the desktop through Ungoogled Chrome.
It is, for the record, Friday, sunny and cool, with the ‘beans calling a high on the day that falls well short of 80F.
I have Stuff to do today, and the boys in the basement need a day off. Also, if I’m reading the note on the torn-off corner of the potato chip bag right, more beer. Lucky for them, today’s Stuff includes a grocery run.
Last week, I guess it was, I was talking with the visiting nurse — same guy whose been here four out of the last five years, and at one point he said something along the lines of, “But you didn’t have a plain vanilla husband. Some of these guys . . .” and he let it drift off. And a week later, I’m still struggling with this, like I’m still, occasionally, struggling with something another guy said to me, a decade or so ago, now, I guess. He was telling me about his first marriage and how it ended, and how his second marriage started, and where it might be going. He was thinking about moving south, come retirement, and his wife had agreed, only he had lately come to understand that “south” to her was Portland, and not South Carolina. And he said something along the lines of, “Well, I guess we could call an end,” and I probably frowned at him, because he said, “No, look. It’s not like we have anything as tight as you guys have. It’s just . . . convenient.”
Now, I happen to think that I’ve been lucky in love, and in most of my life, but I also like to think that I — that we — weren’t the exception to some kind of universal order, stipulating, as we must, that love — and luck — is idiosyncratic. So, those two little stories — they bother me.
Well.
Who else is doing errands today?