To Blave
November 18, 1998


Today is our ninth anniversary, and the last one we'll have without a child. We've been trying to save money, but both agreed that we'd go out for a nice dinner tonight. Unfortunately, things didn't work out that way.

A few weeks back Jean called the folks who rent our house to let them know about some branches that could do some damage to the house if they were to fall. Tree people were sent to inspect, and it was decided the branches should come down.

It turned out that today was the day the tree people were coming to take the limbs off the tree. Jean and I arrived home from work at the exact same time, and found a note tucked between the screen door and kitchen door:

"We broke a window on the back of your house. We will be back to fix it tomorrow. Thank you."

Once inside, we went back to the den. Shards of glass were all over the floor. Both of the dogs (who stay in the den all day) were okay, but they had been so frightened by the experience that they'd soiled their cage for the first time in years. Both the storm window and the top pane were smashed, and two of Jean's plants had been knocked off the window sill. One of the plants had been suspended in water, so the floor was a mix of glass, dirt, water and urine. And it was cold.

So while Jean grabbed the phone, I got the broom and the paper towels and started cleaning up. Jean left a message for our agent, who had gone for the day. The agent on duty said she would beep him. The glass had somehow managed to get to all corners of our den, which is fairly large. There was some glass on the couch, some over by the door into the room (opposite the window), and a bunch all around our stationary cycle (next to the window). After sweeping and mopping up with the paper towels, I pulled out the vacuum and tried to pick up all the little pieces.

Half an hour later we were still waiting to hear from our agent. Jean called the company again, and the on-duty agent promised to beep our agent again. Jean stressed that it was our anniversary and we wanted to go out for dinner but were waiting to hear from our agent. Another half hour passed with no phone call, and we gave up on our plans for dinner out. We still wanted to check with our agent since we weren't sure if the company would want the landscape person to do the new window, but now we were both deflated from the whole stupid experience.

So instead we decided we'll go out Friday night and stay in tonight and have a pizza. We watched The Simpsons and two episodes of Drew Carey (the dance episode was great!). We sat and read about baby. We turned the night around and had a good time, despite the fact that our agent never called. It wasn't the romantic night I had hoped we would have, but we still have Friday. And it was romantic in its own way: all we really need on our anniversary is to be together, and to take the time to celebrate.

I can't say we're celebrating an achievement: it was never hard. It's easy to love Jean, and she loves me (I won't presume to explain how her side of the equation works, it just does).

To blave!

It was cooler today than yesterday, somewhere between Indian Summer and true Fall. The sky was a pale blue, but there was hardly a cloud.

Watching: The Simpsons, Drew Carey2


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© 1998 Kevin J.T. Creamer