When there's a big problem, I know how to handle it, usually. You assess it, figure out the range of possible solutions, and work toward the best one available. You deal with it.When there are little problems -- and they do seem to come in batches, yes? -- the world comes to a grinding halt and I sit down in frustration, tired, cranky, wishing it would all just go away.I'm coming down with a cold. I had to fly into frigid stormy weather. There is no WiFi. Had trouble with the wired connection. The chair is too goddam low.
Looked like a tall woman, from behind. Pageboy style, bright red. Bangles, beaded bracelet, rhinestone-crusted watch on the wrists. Feminine cardigan, sleeves pushed up on the forearms to 3/4 length.Later, I heard a man's voice and looked over -- the redhead was leaning over by the engineer; the male voice came from her. Him. He straightened up and, but for the small budding breasts, his body was definitely masculine. Trans, in the beginning phases, I guess.Not sure what pronoun to use, though. Technically, "he, him." I like to be courteous. Should I use "she, her"?
They spoke briefly of fears, and of loss. No, not loss: potential loss. Loss as inevitability. They longed to intertwine limbs, taste one another's breath, and murmur of relationship arcs and the relentlessness of time.That was not true either. They simply longed to intertwine limbs, taste one another's breath, press their nostrils against one another's skin, letting those senses fill, combine, and build a wall to surround them, shutting out the hurtful things.For now, that would suffice. Then, they could forget all but what was there and now. Live in the moment. Love in the moment. Forget fear.