My back is much much better, I slept and dreamed and thought amazing thoughts that I should remember in the morning but of course they had floated away when I tried to retrieve them. Still not better enough for a run, still a little stiff and the pain hiding just under the surface somewhere, so I walked again with the black dog, in the field full of little white butterflies which are called Eastern Blues, for some reason, as I have mentioned before.
The boys have their own car and their licenses and off they go. But sometimes, you still have to rescue one of them, the one without the car for that day, from school for an orthodontist's appointment. I was listening to an interesting interview with the author Jonathan Franzen when I stopped outside the school for Matthew to get into the car.
My children seem to believe that they have some kind of inalienable and absolute right to listen to their music when they are in my car. It has been the same with each one, and worse still when they are all together, or in pairs. Sometimes they will remember to ask me if they can change the station, but invariably they will just merrily find something they like, although they do consider my tastes, not ever playing anything remotely like rap (which I loathe) or a song which contains the swear-word "m-f" which is my very worst swear-word and which I will not tolerate.
Tonight I pay tribute to Matthew, who plays good music in my car, and explains it all to me, who unpacked the dishwasher tonight in his inimitable way, on to weird and wonderful surfaces, the colander surprisingly balanced on top of a tin can next to the microwave, two cups lost on the counter, wondering why they were not in the cupboard with all their siblings, and a couple of sharp knives which never found their way back to their wooden block home.
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