#82

Everything feels too small for you, she said. We were in the middle of the highway, stopped, traffic wasn’t moving.

Me: Everything does feel too small for me. Most especially here.

Her: what is it? Can you place it?

Somehow we had entered into a therapy session in the car.

Me: I’m not sure I want to have a therapy session in the car.

Her: What else do we have to do?

I had entered a phase of life that was, the best word for it I suppose, is blase. I had seen, done, lived, went, explored, and experienced a lot. Few things seemed worth it. I had entered a phase where bird calls, types of cacti, and vintage cards were seemingly the most interesting things I could imagine.

Me: I mean. I guess it started with restaurants. I’m just not happy with like 99% of the meals I pay for.

Her: um hm.

This was not going to end well, I thought. It wasn’t going to be a therapy session. It was going to be her telling me what I should do.

Me: I’m reluctant to say more.

Her: Ha!

As I thought about letting her know more about how I felt about life at this point in time “in general” using rabbit ear quotes to say it, the car in front started to move. Thankfully, slowly, we started to crawl towards wherever it was that we were going. She rolled the window up and turned the a/c back on.

Her: good. It was getting hot in here.