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Waking up on the boys' couch has come to be the norm, so much that it feels rather odd and slightly wrong to be at my own house this late at night, especially with Ben just back. I'll be sleeping in my own bed; it's surreal.
So is the weather. It skewed my whole day. Stephan and I went to Nit Noi for lunch after wasting the morning on our respective computers in the living room, and it was so autumnal outside my whole sense of geographic and temporal locality was casting about for a clue. I could have been in Littleton as a five-year-old, I could have been in LA in elementary school, I could have been in Northampton three summers ago, or Germany this summer. Thailand's equivalent of Joni Mitchell was playing on the restaurant's sound system, and it reinforced that very self-aware consciousness of having an experience, rather than just living it, that she wrote songs about.
Stephan and I both had a morning of surreal bliss, probably for different reasons. I can't get over how effectively happy it makes me for those three to be living together and letting me practically live there with them. The dynamic was interestingly different without Ben there this weekend. It was a change, and a change is as good as a rest. Don't get me wrong; Stephan is (and I am, though perhaps to a slightly less extreme degree) ecstatic for Ben to be back, but we're also both glad, and conscious enough of our gladness to tell each other frequently, to have Bryan around.
I don't know what's with me, besides the weather; I've never had this kind of consistent low-level thrum of a grin in my mind just because certain people and situations exist. I've had Kabalevsky concerto days with soaring glee, and thrills of confused awe thinking about (other) situations, as well as the intense, nearly frustrating admiration that goes with contemplating the existence of (other) certain people, but here we are just getting on with life, sometimes in the same room, and I can't stop grinning.
Of course, when they're having issues, it weighs heavily on me, as do the issues of the people who give me Kabalevsky days, awe thrills, and the admiration frustration. Maybe it's their constant proximity that makes it more realistic to deal with rather than try to ignore except on occasion when alone or overwhelmed. It's not that I feel like I can solve their problems, but they seem more like my problems, so I can deal with them the same way, by action or compartmentalization.
In any case, it was a particularly Swift House-contemplative day. Bryan couldn't come to Roger's this weekend, but we went through a lot of new stuff despite his absence. And made a dinner I'll be eating all week; we must have four pounds of salmon left over, and a big zipbag of green beans.
And now I must accomplish more things on my list.
So is the weather. It skewed my whole day. Stephan and I went to Nit Noi for lunch after wasting the morning on our respective computers in the living room, and it was so autumnal outside my whole sense of geographic and temporal locality was casting about for a clue. I could have been in Littleton as a five-year-old, I could have been in LA in elementary school, I could have been in Northampton three summers ago, or Germany this summer. Thailand's equivalent of Joni Mitchell was playing on the restaurant's sound system, and it reinforced that very self-aware consciousness of having an experience, rather than just living it, that she wrote songs about.
Stephan and I both had a morning of surreal bliss, probably for different reasons. I can't get over how effectively happy it makes me for those three to be living together and letting me practically live there with them. The dynamic was interestingly different without Ben there this weekend. It was a change, and a change is as good as a rest. Don't get me wrong; Stephan is (and I am, though perhaps to a slightly less extreme degree) ecstatic for Ben to be back, but we're also both glad, and conscious enough of our gladness to tell each other frequently, to have Bryan around.
I don't know what's with me, besides the weather; I've never had this kind of consistent low-level thrum of a grin in my mind just because certain people and situations exist. I've had Kabalevsky concerto days with soaring glee, and thrills of confused awe thinking about (other) situations, as well as the intense, nearly frustrating admiration that goes with contemplating the existence of (other) certain people, but here we are just getting on with life, sometimes in the same room, and I can't stop grinning.
Of course, when they're having issues, it weighs heavily on me, as do the issues of the people who give me Kabalevsky days, awe thrills, and the admiration frustration. Maybe it's their constant proximity that makes it more realistic to deal with rather than try to ignore except on occasion when alone or overwhelmed. It's not that I feel like I can solve their problems, but they seem more like my problems, so I can deal with them the same way, by action or compartmentalization.
In any case, it was a particularly Swift House-contemplative day. Bryan couldn't come to Roger's this weekend, but we went through a lot of new stuff despite his absence. And made a dinner I'll be eating all week; we must have four pounds of salmon left over, and a big zipbag of green beans.
And now I must accomplish more things on my list.