One of the cool things about not having a father is that if Toy Con comes the weekend of Father's Day, you can happily spend money on toys without worrying about buying a present for your papa. That's what I and my other fatherless friends told each other as we high-fived with big grins, wielding shiny new sonic screwdrivers like we wanted to put someone's eye out. We didn't, in case you were wondering.
Outside, my new puppy, Boo, is barking up a storm. She's been quiet most nights now, and I've rubbed her ears and skritched her belly in appreciation of this, oh lordy, my baby's sleeping through the night, but tonight she is unhappy. I've checked, discreetly, to see if there is anything to be worried about, but it seems that it is Boo against the music tonight. I have no idea what is wrong.
This morning, when I was getting the sticker for the car, I was listening to a playlist I made for the boys. I was strangely affected by it; like I was pressing hard on a fresh bruise, like the pain was making me into a walking (driving) cliché. I am always so lonely now, even though I am in almost constant communication with a lot of people, most of them my friends. I think I am missing companionship more than anything else, physical intimacy: jostling elbows, and the clink of your fork against someone else when you're sharing a hot appetizer, and the comfort of someone's arm around you.
I can't believe I've started blogging again in some desperate attempt to reconnect with my feelings.