Dearest Rachel –
Good morning, and I hope you’re enjoying your forty-fifth month in the Kingdom. I admit to not always acknowledging these months anymore as they pass. Much of the time, it’s because I’m actually preoccupied with what passes for my usual life, and I don’t notice the day has come and gone until it has. Occasionally I’m aware of it, but it doesn’t really fit in with the topic I feel like telling you about. And sometimes, it’s just because I don’t want to think about it that day. You understand, I trust.
But this morning, one of the first things I felt the need to do today was to make a note of my current progress on my weight loss journey. This involves, among other things, writing down the date, and every time I note that it’s the 23rd, well, you can guess where it leads my mind. So, there you are; happy anniversary, honey. Wish you were here, but I know that you’d rather not in comparison.
The morning brings with it a few first realizations like that, including the realization that I’m not to the point where I’m regularly waking up at obscene hours of the morning even if I kind of want to – not that I really want to, but… look, let me try to explain.
After a little bit of back-and-forth yesterday, Kris asked if she could come over to clean the house about a week earlier than she would ordinarily, as she’d been having issues with transportation and other clients’ schedules. Now, I’m fine with this, but since she comes over at what she considers to be the first thing in the morning, I need to be back from the gym before eight in order to get cleaned off and dressed up – it won’t do to step out of the shower and come face-to-face with her in such a state.
However, this means getting out and on my way to the gym to put in my four miles by about six-thirty or so – it takes time to walk there and back, and the treadmill time is just that little bit over an hour (and all this assumes I’m not going to bother with any of the weight machines beforehand). And, despite having deliberately gone to bed before 10, I was barely up by that hour, let alone out of the house.
I suppose there’s a certain amount of good news to be had by this, in that I’m still capable of sleeping in, at least for a certain value of the concept – imagine how late I could do this if I stayed up past midnight! So I’m not yet the old man I worry about turning into (and may have been already for much of my life). Then again, it may just be the effects of the season and the weather; despite getting out later than I planned, it’s still dark when I stepped out, with the moon almost directly overhead (although, in fairness, that has more to do with the time of the month – the moon doesn’t set at the same time the sun rises, despite what some people seem to think), and it is late in October, after all. It’s one thing to walk through the mugginess of a August pre-dawn; by this time of the year, one would rather wait for the sun to work its magic a bit before setting out in less than seasonal garb.
Then again, I’d planned for the latter, and wore a sweatshirt over my T-shirt, only to decide that it was a bit more than I needed for the walk, and left it behind in the house. A good thing, too, as I was pretty much soaked with sweat by the time I left for home (as usual). Much as I know I’m going to have to deal with this in the coming months, I really don’t want to dirty more clothes than I have to every day. And despite the fact that I’d worn that sweatshirt yesterday (and, now that I think about it, the fact that it’s called a “sweat shirt”), meaning that it would be getting tossed in the laundry pile regardless, I’d rather get as few things damp with sweat as possible, as letting them pile up while still wet isn’t good for them. I’d like to think you’d agree, even as you might take issue with having so many of them hanging out to dry in the laundry room like they do.
All of which is another realization I find myself dealing with at this point; I’ve made myself almost too much at home. Back when Jan helped me clean out the house, she suggested I spread my clothes out in the dressers and closets, as the room was there, but I was reluctant to, as I wasn’t ready to accept that you were gone (or perhaps wanting to leave space for ‘Megumi’ to move in once she showed up). Forty-odd months later, and those days are gone. I’ve come to accept that I have all this room; I might as well take advantage of it. There’s no one here to complain about it (except maybe Kris, but since it just means more for her to clean up, why would she begrudge the extra money?), so why not use what’s available? Even admitting to what I’m doing might turn off some ‘Megumi’ who’s reading this over your shoulder, but if so, perhaps she isn’t really ‘Megumi’ after all.
Still, regardless of all these realizations, there’s no point dwelling too much on them. I’ve got the rest of the day to deal with, so I need to get going. If it crosses your mind, honey, feel free to keep an eye on me, though, and wish me luck. I’m sure I’ll need it.
Letters to Rachel 