Sunday, January 06, 2008

Go to the mattresses

Hotels with the finest linens,
Soft and gentle as a swollen dandelion,
And billowing pillows, twice as delicate.
Cushioney beds in parents' basements,
fashioned of sentimentality
And memories.
None are quite so quiet
And simply stately
And completely comfortable
As my own bed.

It was a good Christmas break, but tomorrow it's back to the grindstone, so to speak. However, I suppose there is some intrinsic value in simply having a routine to come home to.

Last night we spent the evening with our good friends Jon and Sarah, and had a nice dinner at a local cafe about a mile from our apartment, followed by some Wii Bowling during which my Pro status was lost and subsequently found. We capped the night with a viewing of The Little Mermaid, courtesy of Sarah's amazing DVD collection. I even remembered the words to a good portion of the songs. But wow, Usurla is freaky.

It was so nice out today that we went on a good ol' fashioned walk through Como park, though its green carpet had been replaced with a white coat of winter down. I also made a jalapeno grilled cheese for dinner and changed my choice of dipping sauces to ranch dressing in lieu of my usual ketchup or buffalo wing sauce. And as I write this, nursing a flat Coke from a clearance Target glass, I think about how good things can be sometimes.

1 comment:

gb said...

your poem made me cry, almost. i've been traveling nonstop for just about a month now and i just want to be in my own bed.... thought i would have 2 nights in a row, but realized we had misscheduled and actually leave my place early tomorrow morn... that means half a night and early morning. when oh when can i billow in my own bed and sleep past noon????