Quiet Monotonous Simplicity
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Charles had planned to be back home today. The friend he has been staying with has surgery scheduled in Durham very early tomorrow morning. Very early, Charles should arrive before 6:00 a.m. Probably when my eye opens to note disgustedly that it is 4:00 a.m. I won’t manage to close it. If any two people here in central NC want to be together it is the two of us.
Even though his friend has been there to cook Charles steaks and pick up Charles’ meds (something I can’t do since I never mastered the minimal technology of motor vehicle operation) I’ve never heard my frail sweetie sound more vulnerable, more needful of me.
And I’m needful of him. Either Gordon or Yance would’ve let me escape going to the bookshop today. No decent reason to impose on them again. I grudged ever minute spent in my bookshop today. I wanted to be back here. Not for any sane reason. I’d’ve been a lazy vegetable.
Funny in a dead serious way how you come to need someone else.
Somewhere Max Beerbohm celebrates his life of ‘quiet monotonous simplicity.’ I want man-sized chunks of that.