In January Tom broke his elbow and needed surgery so we spent the first three months of 2013 getting to the end of television, holed up on the couch in the new apartment watching every remotely arty drama we could get in our eyeballs and a lot of other crap besides. I made a lot of pesto. We ate a lot of soup. Mad Men finally grew on me but I only liked the parts of Dexter with the creepy incest, which is typical; Homeland was kind of annoying and Shameless continues to be my very fave. A mid-February weekend in Florida notwithstanding, my skin has the color and mostly the feel of loose-leaf paper. I open the windows even when it’s freezing, just to feel the air.
It’s been weird around here. We were supposed to buy a house and then we didn’t. We moved anyway, to a place I don’t love and that still doesn’t feel like home. My parents are finally living apart which wrenched me way more than it ought to have at this point on account of I am a Grown Ass Woman, and meanwhile we are planning an October wedding and the writing stuff is better than it’s ever, ever been. The theme of this past fall and winter has been High Highs And Low Lows, basically, and I am ready for things to even out. It’s coming though, I can feel it coming. There are buds on the trees outside.