Our Ashes 'Round The Yard.

I was telling my friend Janae about how pathetic I am. This conversation is pretty much a daily ritual. Today it was about how I haven't put sheets on my bed yet. See, I got my apartment in March. Then waited three weeks before bringing anything over. I have been sleeping on nothing but a mattress pad, under the uncovered comforter I bought Rbf in 2002 for his semi sleeper. The Reboyfriend Quilt is the top layer. I still sleep on the right side of the bed. I still have not been able to sleep in the middle of the bed like a normal human being.

The left side is covered in a heap of clean laundry and some spare bedding. I sometimes wake up spooning it with a spare pillow behind the square of my bent knees. I won't put my sheets on my bed. I don't know why.

Wait, yes I do.

It is because I'm not ready for this to feel like my home yet. I still have a stubborn streak that refuses to accept this as my home, because I'm not really supposed to live here. I'm only here because the wing broke off.

Today I went in and put away the clean laundry and put my sheets on my bed. I spread the quilt over the top and left the room. One step closer to actually living here.

I got the urge this morning to listen to some old Iron & Wine. So tonight I made good on it, as I sat down to list my 100+ books on Amazon (proceeds going to the Memorial Fund). And instead of doing that, I am blogging. Because Iron & Wine throws me back to this one time Rbf and I listened to the entire album with him sitting in my little bedroom armchair, me on the floor with my head in his lap.

We were in the car on the way back from a wedding when we got into one of the few "fights" we got in over a decade's time. Something he said made me feel like he was diminishing our awesomeness as a couple. Maybe the vague way he said he answered people when they cornered him at the reception to ask if he was next down the aisle. Not sure. But I made the mistake of thinking that silence was the best way to prevent your feelings from being known. WRONG BAD STUPID GIANT PIECE OF FAIL. He is a guy. A simple one. In his mind, silence was the BEST way of making your feelings known.

"You're mad." No I'm not. "You're not talking. That means you're mad." What are you talking about Reboyfriend? I'm not mad, I'm just not speaking. He was quiet for ten more seconds. "You're mad."

He let me be quiet for a while, then said "Kir what did I do?" I tried to avoid discussing it as long as I could, because I was, up to that point, always and ever BREEZY. You were an hour late? Bah...I had some errant quilt seams to rip and some pictures to upload. I will be busy with both, and very breezy, when you show up. And then make you wait until I finish. I'm BREEZY. Breezy regirlfriends don't give a CRAP whether or not you publicly announce (to an acquaintance at a wedding) your undying eternal love for that girl over there eating canteloupe and spilling punch on her skirt. Breezy regirlfriends are just as interested in the canteloupe as they are in Nicholas Sparks-like themes in life. And Breezy = Quiet. I think.

I of course waited about 2 minutes, and then accused him of not passionately adoring me in Twilight/Notebook proportions like he normally professed to.

And he didn't correct me as passionately and adoringly as I wanted. So then I got MORE quiet (aka even more insulted). He was so confused.

Watching confused Reboyfriend is kind of like watching three or four yellow lab puppies under a big heavy blanket trying to find their way out.

When we got home, he took the flight of stairs up to the kitchen, and I took the stairs down to my room. I turned my music on random, dumped my clean laundry onto the left side of the bed and began folding it to cool my pissy, indignant self down. Iron & Wine came on and, as you'd expect, it had a softening effect on me. So does clean white laundry.

Rbf wandered in after about five minutes. He quietly sat down in my little white armchair across the bed from me. It was really cute because old Rbf (Quoting my bestie Autumn: "I have always loved hearing your Reboyfriend stories. Well, except when he did stupid stuff. Then he sucked.  But that was boyfriend not reboyfriend." We love Autumn).  Back in the day, Just Boyfriend was able to remain comfortably in dead silent "fight" status for eternity if he had to. New, improved ReBF has less willpower, and also loves me more than he did back when he was Just Boyfriend. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. Then I asked him "Are you batshit crazy in love with me and want to be with me for the rest of your life?"

"Yes."

"Ok. I'm batshit crazy in love with you and want to be with you for the rest of my life. That is all either of us needed to say." I was so right. I usually am. I finished folding and then walked around and sat down on the floor with my head in his lap. We didn't talk, just sat there like that, for like 20 minutes, and the only sound was this album (Our Endless Numbered Days).

It was my favorite "fight" ever. It was even cuter than the one in Seattle where his only comeback was that I was adorable.

I read in some article later on, that "Naked As We Came" is said to be one of the sweetest love songs ever written. I have to agree. I can't hear it without wanting to keep my clean white laundry in a huge pile on his side of the bed. I don't really ever want to put it away.



She says wake up, it's no use pretending
I'll keep stealing, breathing her
Birds are leaving over autumn's ending
One of us will die inside these arms

Eyes wide open
Naked as we came
One will spread our 
Ashes round the yard

She says if I leave before you darling
Don't you waste me in the ground
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms

Eyes wide open
Naked as we came
One will spread our
Ashes round the yard


-Iron & Wine