I never wanted this to end. I'm currently sitting in the middle of the giant conversation pit couch, with a pair of my best friends on each side of me, playing the game we call Robot Chicken (it might actually be Ultimate Chicken Horse?). This is our last video game night before T loads up his moving truck and leaves for the next phase of his life. It's not forever, really. He will continue to work remotely for the same local tech company. He will return regularly, including a trip this June. The wife and baby will come here often too. But it won't be like this, with us all mildly intoxicated in some fit form or fashion, playing video games like kids.
How will I go without a place I feel comfortable walking to in my pajamas, as I am now? So comfortable that when I suspected something foul, I was able to ask the room, "okay, is it the salami snacks that smell like farts, or is it one of you?" And so comfortable that I could laugh like a middle schooler when the answer came back, "the salami smells like old farts; the pepperoni smells like fresh farts." Most of this group will still be in Colorado, but it just won't be the same neighbor group.
Since I don't play this game that's on now (I did play both Mario games), I entertained myself looking online for planters. I found the shallow yellow pot I went to @home to find yesterday (and failed). I didn't buy it online. I already repotted the string of pearls into the wooden bowl I bought yesterday. I drilled three holes in the bottom of it, and adjusted the plant to fit. It was in pretty rough shape, I found once I got it out of its nursery pot. Lots of pearls (leaves) were shriveled up. I trimmed out what I could, and I'm hoping it will recover a bit with the pruning.
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