Today I am at my boyfriend's house in South Nyack. I love being here. The living room is all windows, facing the Hudson River and the Tappan Zee bridge. The sun streams in filtered through the leafy trees that surround the building. Birds flit in and out. It's an ideal place to write.
I have written a rather long essay which I will not post here, because my Mother is mentioned, and she doesn't feel quite comfortable with it. She did, however, suggest that I not mention our names, and submit it to this historic mag for possible inclusion. So I am. I'm also submitting to a couple of spiritual publications. You never know.
This is the first time I have ever submitted my writing anywhere for possible publication. I'm interestingly dispassionate about it. But glad I did it. And I do find it amusing that my Mom thinks my blog is more likely to bite her in the ass than a nationally-published and distributed magazine.
In other news, I have not yet managed to shower yet. It is simply too comfortable here at bf's place. I washed my hands and face and put on some of (his) clean clothes, but have yet to really prepare myself to face the world.
With this in mind, about an hour ago, I went to the bathroom to retrieve the hairbrush I keep here for myself. I found it stashed in the cabinet under the sink. Now, bf is not like most straight men - he is a very clean, neat person. No empty beer cans or pizza boxes to be found. No clothes hanging on doorknobs - they are all folded in the drawers, hanging on hangers, or waiting patiently in the laundry basket to be washed. He does laundry a couple of times a month. He swiffers and dusts and scrubs all the time. His apartment sparkles. He doesn't bring home crap all the time that he doesn't need - he has virtually no clutter anywhere.
Except under the sink.
I couldn't help but dig around a bit. Contact lens cleaner. Extra deodorant. About 50 tiny bottles of shampoo and body lotion, swiped from hotels. Most of them are Neutrogena, which he swiped for me rather recently because I love Neutrogena. (mmmloveydovey) Towels neatly folded, lying on top of the scattered bottles and disposable razors and mini soaps.
I started to just sort of straighten up a bit. Just stand up the bottles. Just the big ones, the lens cleaner and the Nyquil. Next thing I know I'm standing up all of them, even the little ones of lotion and shampoo. Now I'm started to categorize them and stand them up in groups. The cabinet looks nice.
No it doesn't. It looks like some OCD person lives here.
I raked my hand through the cabinet, returning it to the chaotic state it was before. I then brushed my hair.
I think I'll take that shower now.