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a bleach-stained epiphany
Tuesday, Jun. 03, 2003

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I came home today pissy as all get out, from traffic and no lunch and lingering illness, positively spoiling for a fight about whose responsibility cleaning the bathroom really is. He called just after seven. I was up to my arse in bleach and SoftScrub, and didn't hear the phone. And then when I did hear the message, I was even pissier and thought fuck it, I'm not calling him. And then a friend called, and I was able to help her out and she in return made me laugh, and then he came home and the bathroom was relatively clean, and I thought no, I don't feel the need to fight about this. This does not require a fight.

And you can argue that maybe that's sublimation, and those who know me can say to themselves yes, Mel, we know you, you'll catalogue this in your head and save it all up for a later date and then explode. But I don't think so. I think it's because I've learned what's really worth fighting about, and in turn what's really worth fighting for.

So life is not perfect, and there's no money/no energy/no time to do the things we really want to do. And there's no-one but you to clean up your mess, and you have to be the one to decide if it's even a mess you want to make. And sometimes you think if only/what would life be like/why did I choose this -- this man, this life, this path. And then you remember what life was like before you became we, and realize that being accountable to and responsible for someone else beats the hell out of what life was. And (in the small invaluable moments that you hold in your heart and replay in your head in the hours before sleep comes) beats the hell out of anything you imagine life could be.

And you know, exactly, why.


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