Freedom

Next week, at this moment, I'll be doing what I'm doing right now. Reading the newspaper and the internets, drinking the coffee and telling miss jackson she can't go on walks yet. Only I'll be doing those things in our restored house, sitting on our new furniture (if it all gets delivered). I'll probably write some boring weblog about how "I can't believe we're back." Leah and I will say similar things to each for awhile I bet. Mid-November was when I last dorked around the house in sweatpants and bad breath. Exactly what I'm doing now in this apartment. Only now, it doesn't feel triumphant. I'm anxious to return to my tiny kingdom. Excited to hear the brass bands trumpet my arrival as I stroll the grounds greeting my freshly painted walls. (iTunes has brass right?). I'm pumped to sit on a couch that doesn't give me scoliosis. I'm thrilled to throw open my door and let our beast limp outside to use the facilities on her own instead of following her out to a pathetic courtyard and pressuring her to go. Imagine the liberating privacy she'll be experiencing in a week. To poop without a taunting crowd. That's freedom. Eat your heart out, Wallace.