January 22nd, 2005

running, bomb tech

Someone Else's Problem.

Someone Else's Problem. Someone Else's Problem.

I just need to keep repeating that, and we'll be juuuust fine.
running, bomb tech

Cleaning House

What with Marx moving out, there are things in the living room getting uncovered. I've been sticking the Little Fayoumis's toys and so forth into one of the folding mesh laundry baskets, and I'm moving the modem/router to my room sometime tonight, after I get a spare cable out from under boxes. That way, the cable strung from the ceiling can stop tripping people.

I found the old sewing machine, and somehow the puzzle of metal parts stopped eluding me, and snapped together just so. I have yet to see if it works. If it does, I may take the replacement back for a refund, because I don't need it, and I haven't even opened the box.

Everything is so very overwhelming tonight. It seems so very real now. I need to check with the office on apartment-things, and check with the office at work on schedule-fu. When will my schedule do interesting things?

I moved the router just a bit ago, and it's already happier. I like my pets where I can supervise them.

This apartment suddenly seems very, very big. I will be glad when Sis gets back home. We missed her earlier today when she came through and we were still out lost.
running, bomb tech

(no subject)

I hope I get to see my bondmate soon. These gray days (non-literal) are dreadful.
running, bomb tech

Moving Again

There's one last load of stuff of Marx's that won't fit in his brother's pickup truck (he has two brothers, both of them younger than he is, and this one's the older of those two) and I'm helping get that over to napalmocean's.

Who's the Queen of Bad Timing?

I'm waiting on them now. Whee, moving stuff. Oy vey. I left a message with Sis.
running, bomb tech

Four eventful years...

As of some time this morning, it will have been four years that I've been in love with Darkside.

Real love creeps up on you unexpectedly, if you've conditioned yourself to be on your guard for fleeting attachments that don't last, no matter how right they feel at the time. You tell yourself that it can't be, that you're tricking yourself, that you can't actually love them until you've loved them longer, until the thing meets all these different crazy criteria you dream up for yourself, until it surpasses all the loves that have come before, until you sit down and examine it and realize that you've loved them for a month, six months, a year, two years, half a lifetime. And, when you're wired like I am, you have crushes on others, you have all sorts of little and joyous other loves, but in the end, there's the one who keeps the world spinning and that's the one you just keep loving.

And I love him. By this point it's gotten to almost a game of courtly love. I love him, and while I'd be overwhelmed if he ever decided to return my love in kind instead of just in trust, attention, tenderness, and friendship, I'm fine with things how they are.
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