It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

Try Something New (1)

"Weather forecast for this week has scattered –"

"– the president isn't considering the possibility of –"

"– ech company, FireBoxInc., recently appointed a new CEO, a controv –"

"– fficials say the fire started in a neighbors yard, catch –"

"– FireBoxInc.'s partnership with well-known CityVault Technologies has shocked –"

"– president's actions, at this time, can be considered questionable –"

"– ntique auto show, coming this October, to th –"

"– this Saturday at the Langham Stadium, the 2010 MONSTER TRUCK RAL –"

Matthew groaned, his face squished into the arm of the couch. "Why is there nothing on?" he moaned, his butter-slick fingers diving into the fourth opened popcorn bag beside him to shove a handful into his mouth. The one day without more than two interviews and no garbage television was on? Grabbing the remote and nearly dropping it, the screen glitched into blue before bringing up the Firefly DVD main menu. He groaned again, rolling onto his back. Matthew didn't have the patience to sit through the show again. "Fuck, whatever. Numb me, Nathan Fillion." He pressed PLAY.

The front door opened, Liza stumbling in with her laptop bag on her shoulder and arms filled with groceries and paperwork. "Matt," she called, "can you –"

He sat up, throwing himself to his feet to grab every single grocery bag. "Sorry," he whispered, turning towards the small kitchen tucked into the corner.

Liza shook her hands against the warm air, palms reddened from the plastic friction. Sighing, she placed down her paperwork in the adjacent armchair. "Every time. You don't have to take them all, Matt."

Matthew didn't answer. He started unpacking.

"Matt?"

"What."

"You've left your spot on the couch today, right?" she asked.

"I've gotten –" He caught sight of her grabbing one of the empty popcorn bags. Matthew turned his back to her again, sighing. "Whatever."

"For fuck's sake," she sighed, plopping herself down in the armchair. A discarded wrapper under her crinkled.

"H-how was work?" he spluttered.

Liza grunted. "It...fine. It was fine. Craig's really driving my last fucking nerve." Matthew heard the rip of her Velcro laptop bag being opened. "'DUH, why don't you just go make photocopies? You wanna be a lawyer?' Gee, I don't know, Craig, I guess I just got my degree in law for shits and giggles, apparently." She hissed through her teeth. "I swear, if that old fart wasn't in charge of the firm, I'd stab him." The cushion sighing as she leaned back into it, Liza opened her computer, typing furiously.

He unpacked the groceries quietly, his movements quick and calculating. Refrigerated foods first, spices next, instant foods, ingredients.

"So..." Liza started, her fingers pounding the keyboard, "...should I guess how your day's been?"

"It was fine," he whispered back, putting a plastic jug of vegetable oil under the sink. "I had my interview with the daycare on North State this morning."

"So you did get up from that spot today?"

Matthew kept unpacking.

She paused typing.