Another Perfect Day
By ice rivers
- 37 reads
As we have come to learn, nature abhors a vacuum while embracing entropy. I try to expalin this concept to my wife as she furiously vacuums the living room. She is fastidious which is a kind way of saying tidy to a manic level. In contradiction of quantum physics, she wholeheartedly believes that everything has its place whereas I'm convinced that everything has its places.
I'm casual which is a kind way of saying that I''m a slob who has "always depended upon women all my life " for not only sustenance but survival itself.
Entropoy is a very laid back condition, very committed to toleration...eager to include and reluctant to exclude. Organization is continually vigilant, intolerant and very eager to exclude.
As a result, I live in a dollhouse fit for a Ken. If anybody decides to drop by which of course requires a substantial prior warning, the house is immaculate, stylish, comfortable and ironically welcoming.
In order to preserve the pristine and begin the beguine I spend almost all of my time in the mancave on the second floor, reclining on the couch with my Kindle, my phone and my remote within easy reach. I don't move around enough to create a mess but entropy has its influence which doesn't bother me in the least.
When Lynn is satisfied with her vacuuming, she turns on our two robot vacuumers who spend the next couple of hours sucking around the house in their pre-programmed routes. They know exactly how to avoid tresspassing on each other's workspaces.
For the next few hours, Lynn does whatever she does in the name of capability and maintenance which is another word for entropy resistance
Somewhere around five o clock, Lynn gives me the green light to "come down for dinner".
I gingerly make my way down stairs, propelled by Lynn's love call and the aroma of whatever culinary alchdemy she has cooked up. I have to be careful to contain my emotions because I tend to "make a big deal out of everything" including the simple procedure of coming downstairs for dinner.
This is where I make my single contribution. I "get the water". My water container (always the same one) is full of ice while Lynn's is straight up aqua without the rocks.
Almost always I spill some tiny bit of delicacy on my shirt, so it's better for everybody if I wear a bib which I tend to resist as "going a little too far.'
Lynn cleans everything up, while I head to the couch and make the last minute adjustments to my phone and prepare to hand Lynn the remote.
From that point on, I take my position on the couch as we make our way through the nightly news, Jeopardy, some new series on Netflix and a vintage movie (last night Compulsion with Dean Stockwell, Bradford Dillman and Orson Welles). I taped the NFL draft of which Lynn has "no interest". When I finish this typing I'm going upstairs and watch the whole thing without commercials.
Lynn treasures my private time.
Then we go into our bedroom and watch reruns of Alfred Hitchcock Presents until we fall asleep or until Lynn falls asleep when I reignite my Kindle and pick up wherever I left off. I try to be the second one to fall asleep because the only one who snores is the one who falls asleep first. On thse rare occasions when I fall asleep before Lynn, I am frequently jolted out of my sleep with a sharp elbow and the warning "stop that goddamned snoring."
Lynn gets up a few hours before I do.
When I wake up, the vacuum is already going.
I eat a bowl of cereal , a banana, a cookie and get some crumbs on the floor which I can never see or give two shits about. I come to the keyboard. I finish this. I head upstairs and begin another perfect day.
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