Life is a Sink?

I stood staring at the water slowly swirling in the sink, watching as it took it’s sweet time to drain away, reflecting on the ways that the Water of my Life has been flowing in recent months…

and trying to remember which way it swirls back in the States.

As I came to the conclusion that it was probably clockwise, I remembered a time when I thought that the Flow of my Life was fairly smooth and unhindered. A time when I foolishly thought that blockages and clogs weren’t too foreboding and were fairly easily cleared away. Then everything changed, and for as much as my own internal Channel widened, it also clogged horribly and abruptly, both uplifting and depressing me.

Shit, you were here, you read about it.

I took a long look at what I really wanted for my Life and came to the realization that, once the Channel of my Life is widened, it can’t be shrunken again, and that I wouldn’t sacrifice this widening simply to avoid the clog that I was currently facing.

I did my best to work through it, clearing away larger parts of it, little by little working my way into the clog but still knowing inherently that only time could truly wash it all away.

There was only one thing that could clear everything.

The kids were in bed, dinner’s dishes were done, the Colds that would fell us in mere days were but sniffles in the back’s of our noses… and the water was slowly draining as I stared pensively.

“Whatcha doin’ honey?” she asks, sliding her hands around my waist and up my shirt.

I made some comment about the role-reversal of the big, strong, husband doing dishes and being sexually harassed by the wife, but she didn’t bite.

“Aw,” she said teasingly, noticing me staring at the draining water and mentioning the Coriolus Effect, “are you homesick baby?”

I smiled thoughtfully and realized that I wasn’t even remotely, but she reached out and began splashing in the water anyway in an effort at reversing the swirling rotation.

“If you really loved me,” I teased, “you’d install jets on all the drains, just like the U.S. Embassy in that Simpson’s episode.”

“I can sing your America Anthem,” she offered brightly, “I know the melody at least, if not all the words!”

I told her that I didn’t think that was quite necessary, unless she could do a decent Ray Charles imitation, and that I’d rather simply have a kiss.

Our lips touched, our bodies locked into each other, and we bumped our way down the hall towards our incredibly bright future together.

I freely admit that that ever-elusive True Happiness is something that I have attained, as well as given to another, but I hesitate to pour forth all that it brings into my life for fear of alienating those that may never find it. I wish to though, very much, but sometimes the Sun shines too brightly, and even if it’s only trying to bring warmth it can burn.

Crappy dial-up and crappy computer also mean that I’m writing this long after I meant to update, and that the story of golfing with the big hairy Kiwi, the blind Kiwi, the Crazy Scot, and my Aussie step-Father-in-Law will have to wait a bit. I will tell you I saw my first bandicoot though, and it was everything I thought it would be.

And by “everything I thought it would be” I mean “it’s kind of a cool lookin’ rat.”

Be good, watch out for ‘roos.

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