It’s an understood thing around our house that on particularly sunny days I’m going to spend most of my time in the yard, swimming and reading, rather than grocery shopping or sweeping the staircase or any of the other useful things I sometimes bring myself to do.
Today I was doing that for a while, and then I came inside because I wanted to eat some banana bread. (My second two slices of the day — so, that’s four slices so far today. It’s 1 p.m.) I was too lazy to put on a cover-up dress, so I was sitting in my swimsuit in my library chair for maximum transference of sunscreen onto the furniture, the plate of dessert wodged under my chin like one of those collars you put on wounded dogs, with a napkin spread over as much of the rest of me as possible in a vain attempt to catch the crumbs from my Cookie Monster-esque devouring of treats. (Face-first, that’s how I roll.) And Gene happened to pass by the door and paused to take in this tableau and then unironically said “I’m so lucky.”
Just, thank god, you know?