Goodbyes

Man, if I got as much done every day as I did today, I would be unstoppable.

Working backwards, I went out biking on the path for an hour or so, then salad dinner with Shelley and Steve, then replacing the brake levers on my bike with Steve, then planting tomatoes and mint with Shelley, then brunch with Shelley, Steve, M-C and Alex.

It was M-C's going away brunch.

Last night under the pergola, a bunch of our drunk friends around us, I headbutted her in the arm and said "You're moving tomorrow."

We both looked a little... sheepish? Surprised?

"Yeah," she said. "I was talking to The Wren earlier and saying that the only person I'd ever lived with was MH, and The Wren gave me this weird look until I was like 'Oh, of course, and Megan.' But I sometimes forget."

It's true. I've lived alone so often and for so long that I'm just used to being that person who lives alone, over the past 9 months would sometimes say that I did and then catch myself with shame-faced recanting. Take my word for it, people think it's odd if you don't remember that you live with someone.

I am not an easy person to live with. I know this because I am much like my father in some of the ways that made him difficult to live with. That M-C and I have lived together so long not only conflict-free but entirely amicably is something of a joyful mystery to me.

Not that I'll be unhappy on my own again; I'm suited to it. But I've gotten used to having her around, her chair rolling above my head as I sit at the Archipelago, the rhythm of her typing vibrating through the desk, her floor and my ceiling. Her giant laugh and distinctive hand clap.