We're totally that couple in the restaurant that doesn't talk. You know, the ones who sit across from each other and look down at their plates silently as they eat. And when I say we, I mean you and me.
I have nothing to say to you right now. We've all been there, right? Forced to look up and across, public silence somehow a strain, to ask when's the last time you changed the oil in your car? Because that is all you can think of.
When you're the other couple--the one that laughs and kisses and feeds each other forkfuls of egg--you feel pretty smug when you see us, but I know better. I know that to sit across from someone silently while eating eggs means you love them comfortably. Even pasta. Definitely a burrito. I'm about to have an It's-It myself. And comfortable love is the best kind of all.
It's been almost 10,000 miles since my last oil change. I know, I know. Don't nag. I need to organize my closet. And then there's this, too.
Ozzy has surrendered to his crib. And the mere fact that I just blogged about it, even if it wasn't braggy at all, means that tonight he will wake up and scream until we bring him into our bed. That's just the way the universe works. I'm pretty sure that's what Carl Sagan was always going on about.
So yeah. No biggie. Go back to your crossword puzzle.