The inaudible signal

There it is again... that weird, inaudible signal that only women can apparently hear, signaling them to coordinate their clothes decisions. Today appears to be Pastel Ankle-Strap Pump Day. There was someone in teh cafeteria with robin's-egg-blue, someone outside in yellow, someone else in pink, someone else in sort of a light greenish-yellow. Who thinks this stuff up, and why, when I take women shopping, are cute things like this not ever available? All they ever seem to have is idiotic-looking things that look like washouts from Sex And The City.

Things with Melody are sort of in a strange place. I am having a hard time sorting out reactions from her that are related to her being sick right now versus things that are coming from a deeper place, some hole in her head that's welling up with doubt or something.

I find that when we're together, everything is OK. When we're not, doubts creep in. I find myself thinking of other people, wondering if I'm making the right choice, wondering if I could ever give up my house if Melody decided she didn't like living there.

Crap.