8:29pm

Rosalyn is asleep now. She was a bit fussy this evening; she’s tugging at her ear so we’re keeping an eye out for an infection. It’s cold season and she’s a daycare baby. It’s probably an ear infection. Please, don’t be an ear infection.

I’m heating up leftovers in the microwave and relishing in the dim silence while the green flashes count down one hundred and twenty seconds. I want more hours in the day. I want to get home from work with our baby and have hours to relax, go for a walk, cook dinner together, eat together, wind down, then bedtime. As it is we get to pick one or two of those things before lights out. So microwave it is, then.

Upstairs two dogs are being bathed and hating every second of it. Andrew lets one of them free and I can hear her wriggle and squirm against the carpet, ecstatic with her new, clean freedom.

I bring up dinner and he jokingly asks where his big glass of wine is before striking a pose in his pajama pants to make me laugh. I am so serious. We’re an odd pair.

Nothing extraordinary is going on. I can’t imagine this tiny piece of time would mean as much to anyone else. Perhaps with their cast of characters, not mine. But it is mine. And I wanted to remember it.

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