Look straight in the eye.
Nothing above, nor below.
Let's see, this week - politics, check. Religion, check. Sex? Sex is good. If I'd been blogging in my late 20s, early 30s, there would be a tale to tell. Nowadays, it's not the kind of drive it once was. Nor the source of pain and confusion. It is something comfortable and contented. I could write about it as I do dishes or daily life, but it's a private subject, and not just my privacy, and so out of bounds. Affection seems more integral, more important.
Money. Ah, an often heated subject. D tended to be a careful spender, unlike my own extreme tight fisted miserliness. I learned to be a bit freer with cash, he a little more thrifty. We did not have a huge gap in attitudes. We inform each other of larger purchases, discuss, agree, save, bemoan our lack of wealth, but would not be filthy rich. We would be very responsible with a windfall fortune, based on our innate caution and distaste for risk. We visited Nevada, and put $2 into the slots, got $4 out and felt quite rich enough. Picked up an abandoned roll of quarters, and felt deliciously evil. We are not thieves, but we are not over the top honest always. D once liberated a book from his school library that no one had checked out since he'd been born. For a Brewer's, a justifiable act of love. I stole a pair of leg warmers, unintentionally - but I did not bring them back once I realized I walked out with them in my hand. They fell apart at first washing, negating any guilt.
All in all, living an honest life, mostly, is easier than building a foundation of lies that will collapse unexpectedly.