the bookshelf arrived thursday.
if you read last week’s post, you know this was inevitable. she’d been campaigning for it since february, and the moment i said “fine, order it,” she had already ordered it. turns out she ordered it three days before that conversation. the campaign was just waiting for me to catch up.
it’s actually a nice bookshelf. i hate admitting this.
the installation #
she had a whole plan. anchors, studs, level, the works. i have a dell poweredge rack server that i built from components and have zero fear of hardware. i watched her pull out a stud finder and realized we both had completely different definitions of what this project was.
her version: forty-five minutes, two people, done.
actual version: two hours, one stripped screw, a brief moment where we thought we’d drilled into a water pipe (we hadn’t), and seventeen minutes of both of us just holding the shelves against the wall deciding if we liked the height.
we liked the height.
she loaded it the same afternoon. her system, which i have accepted i will never understand, is now distributed across two surfaces. her desk looks exactly as chaotic as before. the new shelf looks perfect. she’s thrilled. i have to admit it looks good. both of these things are true simultaneously.
cooking lesson five #
deal is still active. 10 meals without incident = she gets to add something from her balcony wishlist.
current score: 4/10. lesson five tonight was shrimp stir-fry.
she handed me the skillet and stepped back. full control. no supervision.
the key with shrimp is you have to not overthink it. two minutes per side, hot pan, don’t move them until they release. i’ve watched her do this probably twenty times. the muscle memory is there even if my confidence isn’t.
they came out right. pink, curled, not rubbery. she inspected one with a fork like a food critic.
“these are actually perfect.”
“i know.”
she threw a dish towel at me.
5/10. halfway there. she texted her mom again. i’ve accepted that her family now has a running tally of my progress. it’s fine.
the laundry room #
the building has a shared laundry room on the first floor. she’d had it on the list for a while. we’ve walked past it at weird hours maybe three or four times and there was always either someone in there or she decided against it.
tonight at 11pm she said she needed to do laundry. with this specific tone i recognize now. she does this thing where she says something completely mundane with slightly elevated eye contact. i’ve learned this is not about laundry.
laundry room was empty.
she locked the door.
she was in charge of this one entirely, which is how she likes it when she initiates. her hands on my shoulders, her back against the dryer, that look she gets when she’s decided what she wants and is going to get it. we were trying to be quiet because apartment building, and doing an okay job, and then she wasn’t trying anymore and i was not complaining about this.
dryers do a lot to cover ambient noise. IYKYK.
we added it to the list. 26 entries now.
end of the day #
got back upstairs around midnight. she’s asleep. hair still slightly damp, one sock on, out cold.
algos are quiet. BTC bot flat. options book closed green for the week. nothing needs me.
23 days to the anniversary. still not telling her what i have planned. she’s been watching me for clues and i’ve given her exactly nothing. this is probably the most effective i’ve ever been at keeping a secret and it’s genuinely amusing both of us.
good saturday. one of the quieter ones. sometimes those are the best.
-AK