Stick With the Hockey Rival

FORTY-TWO

Tonight is the last game of the regular season. Ryan’s at the arena, supporting the team from the box seats, while I chose to cheer cozied up on the couch. By the third period, it’s too painful to watch us lose so epically, so I switch the TV off.

Might as well do something productive, like change the sheets. The unfolded pile of laundry is mocking me from the other side of the couch, probably still warm from when I pulled it out of the dryer during intermission. Is it just me, or is changing linens the most annoying household task?

As I’m struggling with the duvet cover—my least favorite part—the movement causes the contents of my nightstand to spill onto the floor. I kneel to gather everything, annoyed with myself, when I notice the last paper plane Ryan left me is crunched beneath a water bottle. I curse under my breath for not putting it with the others for safekeeping.