Six of the best

Six weeks.

1) Six weeks since Our last session with Sue (the sex therapist/marriage guidance counsellor).

2) Six weeks since We discussed the value of continuing with Sue. Neither of us saw her as particularly good value for money.

3) Six weeks since We agreed our next session, if it were to happen at all, needed to address l’éléphant terrible.

4) Six weeks which have seen the logistical hurdles of the Easter school-break, a conference for my Wife, familial obligations for me … and … and any excuse to make like an ostrich and not to book another apointment.

5) Six months since, impulsively, I moved out of Our bedroom.

6) Six weeks and nothing has been said. With one exception.
One evening, a couple of weeks ago, as We sat down in front of the TV, my Wife passed me the printouts Sue had handed to my Her at our last session. She sat as I started to read them, at some point leaving the room to make a coffee or some such. For various ostrich-like reasons, nothing was said. When we went to bed(s), I left the papers on the sofa. The next morning they had been spirited away, never to be mentioned again.

As I type this, I don’t think I care. Not in a negative way, but rather it just doesn’t matter.
An epiphany? Maybe. More likely a hiaetus.