Wake up, a little groggy from the melatonin I think. And I think I slept well. I know I peed a lot but that’s probably just being 43 and not so much insomnia.
Coffee.
Decide today’s the day I use numbers as my bullet points.
I fold the laundry that my wife washed yesterday. She looked busy when I got home from work last night, so I offered to fold it if she’d let me do it today. These are not fancy clothes where wrinkles would make a difference. These are mostly quarantine/workout clothes. An odd crease here or there will disappoint no one. When I fold the laundry I’m sure to turn all the clothes outside out, my wife does not do this in turn. It is a piece of my love language - a popular turn of phrase - to make sure she can pull a shirt out of her drawer and wear it immediately without checking what side the tag is on. She loves me in other ways. So in the morning, as I’m preparing for work, and she’s still sleeping, so I can’t turn the bedroom light on, and I’m holding a sock an inch from my face to see where the seam is, I’m not angry, and I do not feel slighted, because sometimes she laughs at my dumb jokes.
Tacos and elotes for dinner. Ground beef and cheddar in corn tortillas folded and fried in vegetable oil. Topped with guacamole and tomatoes (sorry, no pics).
Mixed feelings about these numbers.
A bit of reading for class that I absorbed very little of.
Bourbon, TV and bed.
Good night.