A journalist observes life in the far north.
Alec just asked if I wanted to go to a giant holiday bizarre at a sports arena today. I almost took his temperature. It’s a question I never thought I’d to hear. Of course, I want to go. But why in the world would he subject himself to such a thing?
I wonder if he knows that I bought him a fancy tool for his birthday next weekend. He also volunteered to join Lucky and I at our weekly trip to the market. I understand that. He wants to make sure I buy ice cream. But the holiday bizarre? I don’t know if I’ve heard of a man wanting to go to an enormous holiday bizarre. At any rate, I like it.
Last weekend, Al washed all of the windows in the house. And he’s been writing dirty, funny notes on my shopping lists lately. It’s not even noon, and I’ve been kissed three times today, which is typical for a Sunday.
My skin is blotchy and my hair is drab. My butt is big. Sometimes, I am cranky after a day at work. I’m not much of a housekeeper. And yet, I am loved.