W henever I’m feeling down, I become ultra sensitive. Please don’t look at me cross-eyed when I’ve had a bad day because I may just melt into a puddle of tears. This past week has been one of those weeks when I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and wish for tomorrow to come. And, yes, I’ve warned JD not to look at me cross-eyed for fear of living with Liquid Woman, the girl who melted into a puddle and had to live in an empty bottle of Chanel Mademoiselle. And then it’d be ALL HIS FAULT.
Don’t get me wrong. This week has been good in so many ways, but life has a way of sticking you in a tornado of wrenches. And wrenches hurt.
As I was sitting at my desk this morning, I placed my face in my hands and prayed. And then sighed. I felt JD staring at my back from across the room. I secretly wanted him to get up from his large, red chair and hug me, but I stayed silent. A few minutes later, his arm was wrapped around my neck as he pulled me into his chest.
If it makes you feel any better, we snuggled last night, JD said. That’s another thing. When I’m feeling down, I become the World’s Neediest Snuggler. I almost nuzzled my postman yesterday for handing over a much needed package.
Nooo, I snuggled with you…you didn’t snuggle with me, I replied from under his embrace. His response was something along the lines that he was unaware of the Rules of Snugglement, but he said he’ll try to get better. Me too, I agreed, but I meant that in so many ways. I want to become a better person. Daughter. Wife. Friend. Photographer. Just better.
And as long as I don’t melt into a puddle before next week, I think being better is a serious possibility.
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