Everywhere We Are You and I Were Meant to Be

Maybe the hardest thing about sharing your life with someone is actually sharing your life with someone. It's so easy when it's easy but when it's not, that's when you really gotta pull up your big girl chonies.  At your best you grow or find ways to work through it together.   At your worst you must remember you can't hit, bite or maim them.  Cohabitation with anyone for decades is just as hard as being with yourself.  If I wasn't connected to my body I would have left me long ago.

And it may not be the big stuff that takes you down on some days.  It may be one those tiny little points of contention.  Like this glass that I pulled out of the cabinet.

I don't concern myself with much when it comes to this apartment that we don't own but I like things fairly clean and working.  Many times I get neither.  Or I should say the New York renters version of 'working'.  For example the shower works but you have to be Hercules to turn the knobs for the water.  The bathroom sink works but it's no longer sealed in place, so it jiggles and comes away from the wall when you're washing your hands but that's nothing compared to the floor that is rotting away beneath our feet.  These are things that are filed under no one's fault however either of us could spend some time and make them better.  So we both ignore them all equally. Actually P fixes most obvious broken issues.  But then there are specific individual flaws. I've given up on reaching for a clear glass in the cabinet.  These are things that break up roommates, but when you've vowed everlasting love, then it's mostly a matter of learning to let the little things go.  Sure, you change what you can.  What you have patience for, which you better bring it in full force because you will need it to gain any bit of ground. You want a clean glass?  How badly? How many YEARS do you want to spend to get someone to change their behavior? 

Mates. Partners. Husbands and wives.  That means everything and nothing at once.  People think we have power over each other but I could easier make my cat poop in the toilet than I could make P put hot water and soap together, suds up a sponge and rinse a glass properly.

Do I care? Yes.  Do I really care?  Probably not.  But sometimes it takes your partner to do that one more little thing that leads you to feeling just bad enough about your sad life, what you've built up together, all the work you've put in.  That pile of heaping shite we've shoved in the corner that we call marriage.  Maybe you had a bad day at work.  Maybe you came home and the cat litter hadn't been scooped and that smell, that horrible old piss smell just sends you to that bad place in your head where everything has gone completely wrong in your entire life and there is no fixing it.  And then you look over at your partner completely and utterly oblivious to it all.  Not one clue.  That right there, this moment right there is when you must reach way deep down in your nuptial bag for that one tool that can fix just about anything.  You must pull out the humor.  Find it, it's there somewhere next to the insane anger and frustration.   We must be bigger than this stupid moment in our lives, for the sake of the union.  This shit is funny.  This is some small unimportant BS right here and the sooner we can swallow that cruel truth, the easier it all becomes.  Or someone is gonna go down.

This salad was huge and much larger than this tiny Caprese Burger, made with Mozzarella, tomato and basil.