Phone calls bring good news

I was writing about a garden, but I decided to stop that because Seventh called me.  Nothing like a phone call from Seventh to cheer me up.  How I love her, which is why every time I talk to her I am melancholy afterwards.  We talked for an hour.  She called me because she did not want me to think that she only calls when she might need help.  I walked home, gave a man directions to the beer store, closed up the shop, took my washing off the line, not in that order all while talking to her.  

Part of the conversation was about memories, some false some real.  It was about giving advice.  It was about catching up and moving to a greater distance.  It was about her giving up on reality and retreating to a smaller more narrow part of it.  It was about what could have been if I were not as moral as I am, it was about as good as my life could have been if I grabbed what I wanted and did not accept no.

I am not that person, so I would never do that.  

I made her laugh, I taught her stuff she never knew and I told her things that would make her life easier while at the same time as make her less dependent on me, something I do not want.  I want her to depend on me.  But I think that would be amoral too, so I did not do that.  So you see my depression widens, I do the right thing and the right thing makes me unhappier.  

She is trying to get pregnant with her friend, boy friend, who lives a thousand kilometers away.  She is not trying to get pregnant, she is just not stopping it from happening.  No pill, no condoms, nothing.  Not a conversation to have with someone who you are in love with, but I have it and then I tell her how maternity leave works and how she can get it.  We talk about baby showers, and about how she doesn't think she will get one, because she has few friends.  And I am at that point imagining what I would get her.  I don't want to be getting another woman expensive baby equipment for a baby that isn't mine for a woman that I am in love with again.  But I know that I would, because it is the right thing to do.  The right thing for me is to bleed.  If it doesn't hurt me, it must be wrong.

I talk to her while bringing in my clothes and I say that I will be hanging my clothes on the line in the winter.  I tell her a tall tale about how cold it gets in Smallville.  When we hang the cloths on the line in the Winter, they freeze solid.  When you fold them you have to be careful or they might break.  My mother once folded a pair of pants and the legs broke off, she told me to wear them in the Summer and that was how shorts we're invented.  She interrupted me before I finished for a physics lesson on how clothes dry in the winter.  She did not interrupt that story.  I told her that she used to be good in science and she should have continued in University.  She told me that she did, but they were talking about evolution and she did not want to hear all those lies and dropped e course.  Which made me sad.  Corrupted as she was against science from where she once was.

From that point the conversation was a bit strained.  She left telling me that she would call again, but not regularly.  My goal with her is to make conversations easy and free without hassle.  Joy and happiness.  Jesus will walk the Earth in 5-10 years from now, as her people have been telling the world for 150 years.  Maybe I will be dead soon.