11 May, 2010

love letters to the pope

up at 6 with the sun and singing birds, watching the waves do their thing, feeling good.

of course the reason i was up at 6 was because i am married to a man with the limited aural capacity of a retired artillery major. each and every morning is accompanied by the soundtrack of crashes, slams, rustlings and various clonkings. nevermind that the man has his lunch made for him by a loving wife each and every day, he feels that somehow this is not enough and more bread needs to be extricated from the overpacked freezer, unwrapped, sliced, rewrapped, shoved back in and the door slammed; more soup needs to be poured into the ceramic container that has just been dropped, picked up, and dropped again; things need to be violently thrown into the recycling container, etc.

this, of course, on top of the sinus-cleansing ceremony that every man i have ever known feels the need to engage in. why is it that women maintain their sinus health without tromboning all over the bathroom sink at 5:47 each and every morning? i suspect it's the same gene that causes men to spend innumerable hours on the toilet engaged in what ought to be a fairly routine bowel movement.

now all this, in the darkest depths of winter, isn't enough to get me up before me allotted time. at this time of year, however, the brutal sun gets in on the action and pokes me repeatedly in the eyeballs until i sigh resignedly and get the hell up.

good morning, world.


Anna Maria said...

Why "love letters to the pope"?

the polish chick said...

why not?

i always make it a point to have as little linkage as possible between the title and the text. my own little post modernism. just to mess with your minds, my little poultries, is all.

Geneviève said...

Wait a minute. Are you messing around with my husband. This sounds awfully familiar.