Apr. 22nd, 2017

Four years

Apr. 22nd, 2017 08:23 am
hollymath: (Default)
Just realized as I was walking the dog yesterday morning that it would've been James's and my fourth anniversary earlier this week.

Even though I lost track of the date, I do still think about how lucky I am. As I wrote when it'd only been one year:

I had a long day -- week -- of work ahead of me. I saw that I had an e-mail just as I was leaving the house that morning, so absentmindedly opened it on my phone in case it was work-related. It wasn't, it was a reply to a rather vague comment I'd left: I'd found a quote from a Terry Pratchett book that seemed to describe my melancholy rather well, and in the first comment James added another good metaphor from Hitch-Hikers about flying being a matter of aiming at the ground and missing because you got distracted, and about failing to get distracted.

When I said that I too felt like I'd been hitting the ground from a great height, I got this reply that actually stopped me in my tracks as I was just about to unlock the front door and go to work.

"If you give me a shout, I'll try to catch you," he said.

I didn't stop theatrically, I had no audience. But I had to stop because something in this sentence made me have to rearrange my worldview.

James and I had been chatting in e-mail for a week or two by this point, mostly just about how our days were going or whatever. It was nice and had helped me through some tedious times, but I hadn't thought too much about it. But now...what was this? What kind of way is this to talk? Should I be making anything of it at all? Maybe he's just being nice. But, looking back on it now I can realize that it didn't feel like that. And that I didn't want him to be just being nice.

The world looked different already by the time I finally opened the door to go to work.

Smells

Apr. 22nd, 2017 09:52 pm
hollymath: (Default)
I went to Levy market for the first time this year (almost two months after it started up again!), vaguely thinking I might get my dad something for his birthday, but instead the only thing I interacted with much was a stall where a guy was selling perfume.

They were in tiny bottles, not sprays but a kind of oil thing, with an applicator a teeny version of a roll-on deodorant one.

The man encouraged me to try a bunch and told me about them. The oils are from Dubai, he says. Some were jasmine, musk, rose, even caramel. One was so fruity it smelled almost like bubblegum. I found a couple of "woody" scents I liked, including the specific cedar as well as two non-specified "woody" ones. It was one of those I bought.

I was really excited because I can't usually do perfumes: most scents and definitely anything that you spray is hard on Andrew's asthmatic lungs. I can't even have spray deodorant without him coughing and complaining I make the whole room "smell pink." (Usually, I think once it smelled purple.)

But since these were oily rub-on things (the guy made a point of saying several times they're alcohol-free), I figured they'd be more likely to be okay, like the solid Lush perfume I used to have.

So I think I like the smell of the one I got, but even hours and hamd-washes later, my wrists and the backs of my hands still smell like a whore's drawers, as the locals would say.

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