Last night I spend a relaxing, dreary night with my bored yet far from boring companion. After my imagination had its way with a couple of pumpkins and a knife, I spent my time on the edge of my couch cushion reading about love and perfume and beets while Chris was flipping through channels like the hopeful flip from refrigerator to freezer and back again hoping something better had mysteriously appeared. No good horror flicks and very few trick-or-treaters. My attention became split between my book and a combination of myth-busters and extreme pumpkin growing. However, the night became highly ordered after I had unintentionally insulted some appropriately aged kids who had come to the door who were self conscious about saying "trick-or-treat." As a result, Chris took candy duty, while I took scary dog duty. It worked beautifully for the hand full of groups that showed up at the door. Later, when we were certain no one else was coming and we were stuck with a bunch of candy and a bunch of lame-ass television, focus began to flux away from staying awake. Try as we might to stay up long enough to fully enjoy each other's bodily pleasures, the eye lids won out, but the familiarity of the person next to me stayed with me through my sleep. What a way to live, I thought. The night had been unimposing and uneventful, but left with me a residue of something I have rarely felt. Content, happy, life was simple, and one of my favorites to this date. Not just with Chris, but with anyone. I can't tell you how much joy he brings to my life. It takes a special kind to be able to make you feel warm inside on such a cold and windy night and make Taco Bueno feel like the Taj Mahal.
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