The In-Between Land

Malkmus is on the radio. Scooby breathes on my feet. The dryer whirls its muffled tune.

I stare. Off to the dreamland.

Or perhaps, more accurately, it is the in-between land; in-between my beautiful objective reality, and my beautiful- yet imagined at this point- and thus subjective, beautiful future with the critter bug.

It will be beautiful. And so, here, amidst this in-between land, grubby rugrats eat dirt, or the spiders behind the toilet. Nostalgically, I watch them, smiling.

Here, I see dance parties as an inside joke. We bounce atop the bed, and shake our goofy shoulders. Giggles, and smashed faces.

Pancakes. Syrup. More please.

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