You come into my house, kick off your shoes and stretch out along the couch.

We small talk for a few and I offer you coffee OR tea. Turns out you want both.

I ask you what your plans are for the day, you shrug. Both shoulders reaching for the lobes of your ears.

You point towards your feet and gesture to the walls and ceiling and back to your toes. Apparently THIS is your big plan.

My dear friend you’ve made yourself a burden on me. Like a fish left on the counter or an unwanted chef in the kitchen. Its stuffy in here and suddenly it feels as though all my clothes are on backwards.

But you casually roll around on the carpet like a pig in mud, making your hair stand up like Einstein. There’s pleasure written all over your goofy face.

The kettle is whistling. I pour a cup and steep the brand, Stress Relief. We settle into this watering hole ritual and suddenly I laugh. Its all amusing to me now.