Like, As In
I like the weight of the old Sharp remote in my hand, though I can no longer read the numbers. I like the hour of repose: five minutes worrying about that recognizeable car outside, five minutes talking to Kristianne about bee-stings, five minutes of talk about Five Angels Cafe, five minutes in the hallway with a Tim Snow painting, five minutes on Whitman with Tim McPeek. I like driving down dark Elmwood past lightless bikers and pididdle cop cars, to the last 15 minutes of the first day open of the Lexington Co-op in the new space. I like snapping the little buds from the basil plant when it is time. I like Lush's Karma Soap and how the room smells later when I return to it. I like beating and brushing my rugs from Petra on the clothesline after the rain. I like looking things up in my MLA Style Guide. I like the dog's love when she's happy to see me. I like hungry email, and to growl in response. I like the peaches ripening in the bowl on the table. I like the red African cloth on the couch.
I like the 13 year old recipe for tempeh fajitas in cumin-lime marinade (remember, Jonah?) and the leftovers, which I think I'll make now with some avocado and sour cream.
I like being happy.