Juxtapose

My coworker's husband died today, during her shift, while all the rest of us tried to concentrate on our work and listened to it happening as the two codes were called and his wife asked for them to stop it during the second time around.

Since he got home today, all I've done is breathe in Mark all day, my nose on his shirt, my arm linked with his own, feeling the scratchiness of his cheeks and the goatee he's too lazy to maintain these days. The little things.

We went tonight to unwind at the cinema to be the ultimate hipsters - we went to the This American Life simulcast that was showing tonight at our local theater (the next closest was Boston). There, amongst aging hippies, bowtie-wearing liberal gonzo types, and the young, urban hipsters with impeccable hair, we watched and laughed and listened to some good storytelling. We got our money's worth out of tickets that were unexpectedly more expensive than we envisioned them to be, that's for sure.

And then we were home, burgers in our bellies and enjoying my favorite place to be, my comfy futon, the afghan from Yiayia's house cuddled around my chilly toes. These are the things I try to say that never come out the way I want them to. Life is like this for me: ordinary, but my favorite kind of ordinary.