I came home after a doozy of a day and went immediately for my pajamas. While I was changing, Kiddo knocked on my bedroom door and asked to come in. “Did you hear?” she enthused, bouncing on her heels. We talked about the SCOTUS decision, about the dissents, about our reactions and the reactions of our friends. How we’d both thought that this might happen eventually, but not so early into our lifetimes, not even halfway in, honestly. That so much progress had been made but that we thought things had been slipping lately.
In the hallway, she said, “Now Hugo and Barrett can get married!” which struck me as immediately taking steps toward Pat Robertson’s inter- species marriage fantasies, although his always involved a human contingent, if I remember correctly. It seemed timely, if slightly off center.
We’re in for the evening, going through the list of suggestions everybody sent us— and holy cats, thank you guys, there’s some seriously good stuff in there— joy- binging on supermarket cookies, because while I don’t bake there was a sale, and any time there is a sale I make up for my not- baking self as best I can. Hugo is draped across the back of my couch like a living scarf, and I’m letting him do it; it’s actually nice enough in Baltimore tonight to let it happen. I have some Neighborhood Fiber Co. yarn at my feet waiting to be knit into something new, and Sam should be home any minute now. It’s a good day, you guys. Today was a really good day.