A night at the Roxbury with Jim Carey
this was seriously the first thing that popped into my head when I read this headline.
Love is a many facetted thing.
The puppy-love I fell when watching my son is awesome, and it's self-evident in a way. It's just there. I'm never surprised at how much I can love him, I'm honestly not, because of course I love him that much. I've never ever doubted that for a second.
Then there's the love for my decadent, non-cleaning husband, who fits me like a glove (continuing the Carey theme obviously) It's not head over heals all giggly in love (any more), but as much as I can imagine myself living without him, I don't want to. I wanna grow old(er), senile and incontinent with him.
And the love for my mother, sister and her kids is also a very own kind of love. No matter what they did I could not stop loving them, though I might despise an action (yet to happen by the way).
And the love for my friends. Ah, this for me is the most complex one, since it contains a variable of uncertainty. I have been (badly) let down by (very close) friends, and is in such matters a very scarred and scared little child.
Haha, senil och inkontinent. Ja, det är väl vad som väntar på ålderns höst! Maken har iaf lovat att byta blöja på mig när den dagen kommer. Är det inte kärlek så säg! ;) Kram!
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