“This is ass,” he would often say.
Each time in reference to something different – usually an unpleasant situation or outcome. A classic was bad food tasting ‘like ass’. Even better was his facial expression: anger mixed with a slight, but undeniable, presence of amusement.
Eventually, I got it. Sometimes, shit just happens.
I even stopped wtifully questioning how he even knew what ass tastes like. Hang around someone enough, and soon enough, their strange becomes your standard.
He was my housemate. Then, as we became separated by the ocean, and now state lines, we’re back to being just mates… But we’re better mates than ever.
On a day like today – where I woke up late, made mistakes at work, forgot my gym clothes, managed to pee on my leg, got drenched walking to the bus stop, and can hear the sound of hail pelting my car outside – I unfortunately don’t have my mate here.
But I’ve still got that sense of humour he shared with me. Just enough of it to be able to smirk through my sadness and say myself, “this is so ass”.
Keep keeping on.