I am one who frets if I have enough plates for the dinner guests coming over, a scene I envision five years from now. Nor has that time come or shall it ever formulate that I will be comfortable having more than one of my friends, colleagues and distant whoevers in place. I dream up the clattering of plates and over boiled rice spewing this way and that way all over the kitchen floor. The floor sopped with water and dish liquid spewing out of the dishwasher.
Five years from now, I see myself still assuming that the person across from me may know something I do not know but wish I did. People are creatures of habit and boy is mine peeping from behind the corner of the room, seeing if it’s safe to quickly exit from embarrassment that has not happened yet.
Oh, it’s much too early to start arranging the knick knacks from my parents but it’s much too late to open up the many boxes aligning the storage room closet.
We’re all aware of what it means to know the pressure points,  what makes one another crack and if it boils over. I can’t quite put my finger on if I turned down the pots on my stove…
But it sure is hot in here…


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