I've spent the last hour and a half listening to the far off rumbling of a thunderstorm, and it has felt so very nice. 

At the old house, the forty-four year old windows had been wrapped in some sort of vinyl covering. I will never forget the first rainstorm we experienced there. It felt like being trapped inside a popcorn popper.

He mentioned something about the new house that he wanted to do differently than how we used to do it. That glorious compromise that is marriage in which nothing is fully all my decision and nothing is fully all his. The evidence of your selfishness bubbles to the surface like protein bubbles on the top of pasta water, that if left unchecked spew over and make a grand mess.