There are a lot of things neither of us want. We'd do well to write a list I suppose; stick it up on the half-fridge; or better yet tack it right up on the wall above the bed. Next to the one and only piece of art we have framed. I'm not sure which list would be longer; the one with the things neither of us want, or the one with the things we both do. I think happiness is to be found in finding balance between the two: both of equal length. I think that's when you start to relax, to enjoy the time that you have.
She's away in the corner, stripping nails of varnish, readying a fresh coat. The cat circling her legs, again, unsure on his feet. Vertigo. Who knew cats could get vertigo? Certainly neither of us, but now it would definitely make the list of things neither of us want.
Neither of us want our cat to fall over every time he shakes his head. Neither of us want some kind of Ladybug infestation. As fun as that might sound to a child, or to someone who has never experienced a Ladybug infestation first hand. We don't want to be rich. Well, at least we don't talk about it. We don't want to have to wait weeks for stitches to heal. We don't want our mail to constantly go missing, or the guy downstairs who's just finally been evicted to come back. We don't want to have to wonder about the moles on our backs, or where our next paychecks are coming from. We don't want to be here forever, even though it gets harder and harder to imagine leaving.
We don't want ticks, or fleas, or any kind of lice. As unlikely as that might be. We don't want to forget to put the battery back in the smoke alarm after we've finished cooking. We'd like it if pen lids stopped falling into the toaster, and burning themselves up each time we tried to make some toast. Incidentally neither of us want to have to buy a new jar of Marmite due to its unreasonably high cost. We don't really want children, aside for the occasionally wistful fleeting thoughts following a surprisingly good movie. We don't want to have to walk as far as we do to get on the train. It's fine when the weather is nice, but these last few weeks of rain have drenched us. Figuratively and otherwise. We've talked about not wanting to both have to worry about our families so much, and to try harder to let them go on living their own lives. We don't want Con Edison to keep calling at eight in the morning.
Neither of us want to have to wait to have all the things we want out of life, and out of our life together. Impatience I suppose. We don't want the cat to stay this way forever, and we don't really like the idea of having to wait until Saturday for a day off together. Even though Saturdays are great for brunch, and for getting up late, and for hiding out from the rain and the guy that stops by each week to ring our doorbell and tell us all about God and such. Neither of us want to believe in anything other than what's right in front of us. Neither of us want to find out what happens next.