Today I met some friends for lunch at a place called The Happy Wife.
I have been there before and the name of this little restaurant is an interesting thing to discuss. It could be assumed, I suppose, that it means that a happy wife is one who is out to lunch rather than making lunch? I don’t know. Anyway, the place has taken off like a rocket ship and is very popular.
After lunch, I went to see Anthony and spent a couple of hours with him. He didn’t bring up the subject of coming home for the weekend, so I didn’t either, even though I was ready to say it is now impossible. He was more physically mobile but also a bit more confused (the hardest part of this confusion is he doesn’t think he’s seen me, or spoken to me for ages, so a whole lot of yesterdays have been vaccuumed into oblivion and I have to convince him otherwise).
He wants me to get our bentwood chairs fixed and even gave me someone’s name so I am going to do that and all of that made sense, but in the next breath he asked what had happened to all of our furniture, so our conversation was a mix of real and surreal. I asked if I could bring a couple of pictures in and a clock (the cuckoo clock I bought him for Christmas) and he said yes. A few weeks ago he wouldn’t agree to anything from home being brought in so I didn’t because I didn’t want to hurry the sensation of permanency for him and with good reason because today he said it again: “I didn’t think this was going to be permanent.”
I decided not to respond to that and instead said, “How come you are so good at grimacing these days but you can’t grin?” so we bantered a bit. Of course I didn’t tell him I had been out to lunch at The Happy Wife because it only hurts him to think I might be doing something unnecessary when I could be with him.
I was such a happy wife.
Note: Yes, yes, I need to get a scanner! On the other hand, a photo of a photo can make a handful of years look like aeons and that’s what it feels like sometimes. Look how happy we were.
jmgoyder 