The other day, in a fit of something or other, I decided that the next time I get a pedicure I am going to get blue polish on my toe nails. Teal, royal, maybe a rich navy. Metallic, frosted, glitter....who knows but blue it shall be!
I felt irrationally happy with this decision.
Count me in, world—I ain’t dead yet!
Only in the last few years, have I dared to go darker with deep purples,eggplants and murky shades bordering on black. If I brood, so should my toe nails. And, truth be told, when wearing these less traditional colors, I feel wild.
So, because I've never had a thought that I have not almost immediately verbalized, I announced this decision about blue polish to the cats who care little about my toes but much about from whence cometh their next allotment of treats.
Suddenly, from deep within what I had thought was a pile of laundry, came a deep voice that said only one word and that word was "No."
I'd forgotten that Seth was home.
Seth works in Brooklyn. It's a long and harrowing daily drive to a stressful job so when he's not at work, driving to work or talking about driving to work, he sits in the recliner and, truth be told, hasn't said a full sentence in about 7 years.
|It actually is this bad.|
|I wonder who's under this...|
I jumped and looked around in alarm as the cats scampered from their cozy spots to parts unknown.
Turning to the pile of clothes, I started removing layers. Tossing t-shirts, pajama bottoms and as-of-yet unmatched socks aside, I uncovered his face and leaning down said, "No blue toenails?"
"No," he answered
Part of me was very excited that I might actually be having what I vaguely recall is called a conversation.
If memory serves, that's when two (or more) people actually communicate with established sounds that society has imbued with specific meanings...and these are called words. That they happened to be about the color of toe nail polish was moderately disappointing because I knew that after this "conversation," like the last one 7, or so, years before, there would be another period of lengthy silence as the poor man continues to recover from his commute.
|These are words. Use them!|
“Why?” I asked the pile of laundry on the chair.
“Because toe nails are supposed to be red or pink or coral. I don’t like that goth crap you’ve been doing lately, either.”
I was stunned. An opinion on toe polish? What else might be going on under the laundry...?
Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?
“Yes. I don’t like whole wheat pasta."
I had to sit down. No blue toe nails, no whole wheat pasta...what else?
|Less of this...|
|More of this.|
It turns out Seth has been doing more than resting under the pile of shirts,shorts and South Park leisure pants. It appears that he is very concerned about the economy, thinks Al Gore is a big idiot, wants more ice cream and reminded me that if I buy cherries, they should always be very firm because no one -- not even a pile of laundry on a recliner -- likes a mushy cherry.
I am hoping that this leads to more actual conversations in the future. While I do find the cats very engaging, words are fun to use....even if the person using them with you doesn't like blue toenails*.
|None of this.|
*Gonna to do it, anyway.