A Beautiful Dance

I run into the room and you are writing romantic poetry. I punch you hard on the arm making you cry in pain, helping you forget all about your sore toe. And do I get a simple "thanks"? 

You are in crisis so I surprise you and fill your entire bathtub with jello. It helps you return to normalcy and then we eat like kings.

I am given a lot of power but worry about becoming corrupt. After spending the weekend worrying I decide to enjoy the ride. Wheeeee!

You have some wild and crazy hair! I really want some wild and crazy hair. Wanna trade?

I went to Italy to pick olives to make my own oil. Revenge at last!

You spend the afternoon peeling oranges and you leave me a big box of your peeled oranges daring me to juice them and re-evaluate my opinion of pulp.

I am out of work- they laid me off after all of these years. Instead of sulking as is my inclination, I decide to spend my afternoons "working it" resulting in much humour for all. 

I am brushing my teeth, missing you tremendously. I wish I could brush your teeth instead, only with your permission this time.

You sit inside by the window sill and watch the rain. Your eyes focus on a solitary drop of water and you stare, captivated as the drop zigs and zags, and meanders through the obstacle course of the window until it finally reaches the bottom. Suck on that Socrates!

I get dressed and leave the house on foot by moving each foot ahead an incremental amount. I like to call this "walking". After a few minutes I move my feet faster and engage in another of my unique pastimes I refer to as "jogging". When I tell you about my day and you are less than impressed, I tap your belly button twice and attempt to swipe you away like an app.

You decide to express yourself through song and create a semi-autobiographical three-act opera starring you as yourself in the lead. It is a rewarding experience and you receive an incredibly moving five minute standing ovation from your mom as she watches from the top of the stairs.

I make you a wool sweater and mail it to you as an early birthday present. I then decide to mail you a new sweater weekly. This would seem to be an act of immense generosity on my part except that you are highly allergic to wool, and I am your allergist who first diagnosed your allergy as well as the sheep farmer who first exposed you to sheep as a child and saw you break out into hives.

You have an exceedingly adorable cat who mews and purrs and is just so cute. After enduring the cuteness for an hour while watching tv, you storm out of the room and sit on your bed pouting, wishing you had a dog.

I snap my fingers and wait for the excitement to begin. A few hours and a couple of burgers later I wonder if I missed the memo.

You shave your head, buy a new suit and sport some new glasses and yet I still am not convinced.

I go to the paint store and buy all of the pink paint. Another slow Thursday. 

You have anger issues but that doesn't excuse or explain why you insist on deflating all of my basketballs.

I decide to finally go to Japan to see what all the fuss is about. They are just freakin' 

cherry blossoms! 

You arrange all of your dolls on the couch assigning them names and personalities and then conduct the elaborate and intricate tea party of your dreams, that is until they take a vote and ask you to leave.

I awake dazed in my backyard and spot a bird eyeing me from the fence. I fall back asleep and then awake again and this time there are five birds and they don't seem happy. Once again I fall asleep and when I wake my backyard is full of birds and I sense a large amount of unrest. Suffice it to say I am filled with more questions then answers.