More More than Much

Dear John,

 

Pinterest is down. The world may end.

 

I had a good day at work. The excitement was caused by the demise of my microphone. I spent the last two hours having to shout back and forth through the open drawer. Having come from a long line of school teachers, my voice will easily carry through bullet-proof glass. Hearing my customers is another issue. They're going to try to get out and fix it in the morning. It can't be soon enough. I'm hoarse already.

 

I need to mow but I'm not going to. It was 90 when I got off work, still 80 now at bedtime. I will let the grass grow in peace until the heat and humidity break. As I said to Dallas today, we're just not twenty anymore. I don't know how that happened, but it did. If I mow in this, I'll flare for two weeks. It's not worth it. From the looks of the neighborhood, I'm not the only one who has made that decision.

 

That's all the excitement here: it's hot and the drive-up microphone isn't working. It seems that you aren't missing much. I, of course, am missing you, and that is much more than much. It's still hard to go to bed without you. But Jethro is asleep beside me and the cats are under the bed, it's almost dark outside and the lightening bugs are out, and I have to get up early for work. I'll lie down and turn out the light without you yet one more time. I'll reach out in the dark and touch the dog, glad he's there so I have something warm and alive to put my hand on in the night. Abby will curl up at my feet and Hunter will drape himself over my ribs and purr, and I will know that they love me. And Maggie will arrive and attack my fingers at 5 AM, because that's what kittens do. I'll pry myself out of bed at 6:00, to be glad I did when I get to work at 7:30 because I enjoy my job. I'll enjoy it more if the microphone gets fixed.

 

It's bedtime and I'm starting to ramble, so it's time to turn out the light and miss you even more. Your little family loves you.

 

With all my heart,

Joan.