Early in our relationship, Monica proposed the metaphor of a “bottomless drawer”.
When there is an issue of concern … or a fear … or a suspicion, instead of stacking it into a teetering pile known to only one of us, it is brought into the open. We look at the concern, fear, or suspicion together; we talk about it; we resolve it to mutual satisfaction; and then we “put it in the drawer”.
What is the drawer? The drawer is a phantom place in a bureau, the sort of drawer that might hold unpaid bills or aging photographs or unwanted heirlooms in a normal home. But this drawer has no bottom. This drawer falls to infinity.
We talk about the worry. We place it in the drawer. The worry flutters away into the abyss, and we never have to worry about it, ever again.
She and I also have a tradition of toasting celebrations. This predates our intimacy, and we each admire the other’s toasts immensely. After a night of multiple stressors, we listed four items and tossed them into the void. We opened a much-appreciated bottle of saké, and I took the toast for the evening.
“To bottomless drawers,” I said. “They defy real physics but define real relationships.” She approved.
I love you, Penguie. Here’s to bottomless drawers.
















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