Super Bowl Sunday

I’m laying on my sofa in my underwear and listening to Prince singing Purple Rain. Do people still make fun of Prince? Do people still listen to him? I don’t care. It’s one of my favorite songs and one of my favorite albums, and I don’t care what people think about it. One of the benefits of owning my own home is that I can play it as loud as I like, whenever I like, and there is nobody to complain about it.

Nikola has been over three times since our date of a few weeks ago. We kissed for a long time on this very sofa two days ago, and it was quite lovely. He is very good at it.

Last night, Finch came over to watch a movie with me, which was not Purple Rain, and we ended up drinking too much and falling asleep all entwined, again on the sofa. There was no kissing involved.

This afternoon, Bez came by and brought noodle soup, which we ate off the coffee table in front of the sofa, before we ended up kissing for a long time, and it was also very lovely.

What in the world am I doing?

When I drowned as a girl, I remember when all of my thrashing under the water had ended, in those slight few moments before my mind turned off, when the fight had gone out of me… such peace, such calm. Everything was quiet and soft and full of soothing currents and soft waves. I’ve never felt so relaxed as I did right then before consciousness slipped away.

That’s how I feel right now.

Am I ever as happy as when there are complicated things just over the horizon?

Sometimes I think there must be something wrong inside my head.

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