He looks at me as if to say seriously?
- Me: “Seriously.”
- Him: “I don’t know. Cockatiels, too.”
- Me: “Dinosaur throwbacks.”
- Him: “Yup.”
- Me: “Do you think they get bored?”
Because I would. And then he made coffee, which was a wise choice.
Sometimes the questions are more important than the answers, for example:
- Me: “Why is pee yellow?"
- Him: “Something to do with the liver.”
- Me: “Oh.”
Because even though I always ask, I don’t always care. That’s a bit weird, I know. But I hope you are comfortable with that because I haven’t looked up the answers for this article. Lazy? Sure. I’ll take the blame, but how can we really know anything anyway (see below)?
Maybe you are thinking that by avoiding me in the morning hours, you can avoid this behaviour entirely. Wrong. It’s not always morning. It’s just always.
Recently on a walk home from a night of drinking:
- Me: “Do you want to play Yahtzee when we get home?”
- Him: “No.”
- Me: “Not even a little? We can play a lightening round.”
- Him: “No. What’s a lightening round?”
- Me: “It’s super fun – ”
- Him: “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to play.”
- Me: “How can you be sure? You didn’t let me explain.”
- Him: “I just know.”
- Me: “But how can we really know anything?”
Silence. In this silence, I like to think that he was thinking something like: “Shannon is so smart. I enjoy how she goes from wanting to play boardgames to discussing philosophy. I love her so much.”
But probably he was thinking: “Oh god – I hope she shuts up.”
- Me: “Seriously. How can we know anything? We can’t. Not for sure. We don’t even really know what knowledge is, never mind how we acquire it. We believe we know things. That’s faith, not knowledge.”
- Him: “It’s late and I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about this.”
- Me: “And for sure you don’t want to play Yahtzee?”
- Him: “Yes. For sure.”
Silence. And in that silence, I was desperately trying to remember a quote from Immanuel Kant about how silence provides meaning, but I could not. And the irony was completely lost on me at the time.
*Other mornings, the first thing I say to him is this: “Coffee doesn’t make itself, honey.” He never suffocates me with the pillows, either. Ever. It’s like a miracle.