I finally learned the crucial bits about Darkside's schedule these days: when he wakes up, and when he gets out the door in the mornings. He and I don't have many hours of simultaneous wakefulness, and even less simultaneous sleep. (And it says a lot about my attachment to him that I'd re-work my sleep schedule for him should it become an issue. Body-things don't change easily.)
He and I really do need some overlapping days off. We need regular time together, drat it. Neither of us is getting any younger.
I am Geek in that I count time curled up next to him while he's blowing off random stress on random video games as Quality Us Time. It's nice quiet time together, isn't it? Not much different than both reading together, and that used to be one of the highlights of my mornings.
There are a couple words I'm fighting not to say. It's not like I have overt encouragement or anything. I just have the cryptic actions of some family members, the little things that aren't said, and an utter disinclination in any other directions. But if it comes down to that, if I'm dared to put my future where my mouth is ... it's nearly been a year, after all. And anger and angst and impatience do stupid things. But a crazy plural bisexual mono/poly girl knows that the only way to tell truth from wishful thinking is to see what repeats. This -- this will be five years in January. Most of the crazy's fallen off, now. Fine wines, good cheeses, and the finest of cheesy romance are all aged this way, patience stretched past the breaking point, patched and spun and stapled back together with an ancient red stapler and pasted together with rubber cement and hope.
Now is not the time for anything other than patience. And I have patience.