Wed Sep 26, 2007
Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t actually make it on the jury I was called for yesterday because my cold has turned into a full-blown one. Sore throat, fuzzy head, etc. The sucky thing is that it’s noisy here at home – today they’re putting the (brain fuzzy, blanking on this word… um… trusses! that’s it!) trusses on the new section of roof. I’m supposed to go with Elliott to the kitchen designer in a couple of hours, but it sounds like a way better idea to stay here in bed. I have stuff TiVo’d to watch later, and of course the books I mentioned yesterday, one with only a few pages left, but the other I still have half of.
When it’s a really good book, I’m always torn between gobbling it all up in a sitting, or trying to slow down and savor it in pieces. Usually impatience wins. Matt Ruff, Alice Hoffman, David Schickler, Andrew Vachss – these are all authors that last a day in my house at most.
I wonder why it is that I almost never read non-fiction. I just don’t, and not for any particular reason. Maybe I have the misconception that it’ll be drier somehow, or less emotional. Speaking of Vachss, he has a new novel that came out yesterday. I don’t have it yet, but if I get the energy to leave bed today I’ll stop by the bookstore.
The marriage essays book has gotten me thinking about relationships and longevity. It may sound ridiculous for someone on their 3rd marriage to say that longevity is an important thing to me. Elliott is the first person I’ve been with that contemplating a lifetime with doesn’t strike fear into my heart. I suppose if I could come down to the most important elements in making things work, it comes to two: you both have to want longevity, and you both have to be willing to treat each other with respect even in disagreement and difficult times. So far Elliott and I have not been tested on these, we’re only 3 1/2 years into it and have yet to have any major disagreement of any kind. But I know that we will be tested someday, and I worry most about myself. My ability to stay calm and not say anything to get my way. I hope I’ve learned how to be a better person that way, I’d never hurt him in a million years. I suppose the good thing is that I do respect him, I don’t have to “fake it until I make it”, or as I have done in the past, use BDSM as a means to force myself to feel faux-respect.
Anyhow. Sorry, those were just stream-of-consciousness musings..
Off for more cold medicine.