Saturday Single No. 774

First of all, our cat, Cubbie Cooper, seems okay. We still don’t know about the lump in his abdomen – we’re waiting for lab results – but nothing in his lab work seems to show a problem, suggesting the lump might not be a problem. So we’ll just rest quietly until we get the lab work back next week, and we’ll go from there.

Secondly, today is our condoversary: It was four years ago today that the Texas Gal headed out from the house on the East Side, following the moving van across town, and I followed a few minutes later after turning off the light over the garage for the first time in nine-and-a-half years.

There are a lot of boxes on shelves in the garage that we’ve let sit, but almost all of the boxes we brought into the condo itself have been dealt with. There is one box not far from my desk – some of Mom’s photo albums, some of my old papers, and a few other things – that still requires attention. Maybe this summer.

Thirdly, and most importantly, today is the Texas Gal’s birthday, falling – as it always does – just a few days after the anniversary of our meeting online. We met on either February 15 or 16, 2000. We know it wasn’t the 17th, because that was the day she and a friend headed to Houston for the rodeo. We know it wasn’t the 14th, because, well, I had a difficult Valentine’s Day in 2000.

So, we met in the third week of February 2000, just before her birthday, and eighteen years later became homeowners on her birthday, and to mark all that in song – even though we have no fireplace, even though we have three cats instead of two, and even though they never go into the yard – I can’t think of a better tune for the day than Graham Nash’s 1970 celebration of the domestic bliss he’d found with Joni Mitchell.

Their bliss didn’t last. I think ours will. So here, from Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, is “Our House,” today’s Saturday Single.

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