"And so, she decided to start living the life she had imagined."

Did I decide?  Did I have a choice?  To be happy.  To love...deeply.  To open myself up as I've never opened myself up before.  To dream.  To hope.  Did I?

When I think back upon my life, there have been some pretty damn significant moments that I did not make a choice.  Shit just happened without my conscious awareness.  It's as if the decision was too big, too important for my little brain to face head-on, so my SUBconscious took over and chose for me.  Thankfully, it has made the right choices so far.

The first time I quit drinking - those 3 years I was first at the church and was relatively sober?  Subconscious decision.  Getting sober this time?  I don't think that was either conscious or subconscious or even a choice.  It was a demand.  It was certainly a cry.  More than a whimper....more like a racking sob.  But still, did I put a lot of thought into yet?  I may have appeared to, but my recollection is....not much.  I knew I needed to do it and so I did it.  I basically went along for the ride and it turned out good.

My current work environment

Do you remember how I was when I was at the church?  Anxious. Frantic. Fearful. Stressed.  Stressed. Stressed.  Now? Not so much.  I'm still frantic, lol, but I'm not fearful and I'm not stressed and I'm not worried and I'm not....much of anything, really.  I just do.  I just am.  I'm a happy person.  Me! Can  you believe it?  I'm sane! Me! Can you believe that?!? Yeah, I have my bad days. I have my grumpy moods. I have my "Duck & cover, 'cause she is pissed" moments.  But mostly, on a day-to-day general basis, I. Am. Happy.  I work hard at that every damn day....to say "That. That right there is NOT what I want to be.  I want to have fun. I want to be happy." Sure, it's a conscious choice to have that attitude every (almost) day, but I don't know how I got to it.  I just did.  It just happened.

Falling in love?  That's a little more difficult.  Five weeks ago, when I met Chris (yes, 5 weeks...One month and one week ago....goddamn), I couldn't imagine how my life would change.  I walked into Azteca for lunch to meet a rather-good-looking-guy who said all the right things via text but who I didn't hold out much hope that he would ever be sincere...or even really be there.  I pretty much thought I'd walk in, find he wasn't there and walk back out...or knowing me, get carryout and gorge on Mexican food.  Instead, I walked in, he was sitting right there, gave me a hug (he seemed flustered) and then excused himself to use the restroom.  He says, now, that he did that to give me a chance to turn around and leave.  I wouldn't do that, even if I truly didn't want to be there.  I'm too damn nice.  I stayed. Of course I stayed. He came back.  We had a nice lunch and I gazed into those blue eyes and fell madly in.....like.  I liked him.  I actually liked him.  Do you know how rare that is?  For me to actually like someone?  To want to spend more time with them? To get to know them?  Fucking rare.

That weekend, I changed all of my plans to spend the weekend with him. I deleted my OKCupid account. I knew he was the one.  I fell in love.

Was that a conscious choice? To fall in love? No.  But I let go of my fears, my insecurities and I opened myself up to the possibility; the hope.  I took down my walls....slowly...piece by piece...and let this man into my life...my whole life.

And, damn, am I ever glad I did.

My whole life has changed! In a matter of weeks! And while it seems impossible, it's actually going to get better.  I wake up every day loving him more than I did the day before and he loves me more than he did the day before and we both say to each other, "Is that possible? I thought I loved you as much as I could ever love anybody....but now I love you more."  We've decided the English language fails us when it comes to expressing our feelings for each other.  Love.  It isn't enough.  We need a word bigger than love.

I more than love this man.

"Now dry those eyes, pull up your big girl panties and be that cast iron bitch I know you can be."

I never fall asleep when I'm driving.

Well, except for when I was so drunk I drove with one eye closed in order to see straight and I'm shocked as hell that I didn't actually fall asleep on those numerous occasions when I was a dumbass.  Thankfully, I didn't.  I can barely fall asleep in bed, let alone sitting up in the driver's seat.

But today, on the way home, I almost did.  It was hot in the car. I had cold air blowing on me.  I got about 4 hours of sleep last night.  So, yeah, tired.

I came home and ate dinner and was asleep by 6.  I still only slept for 2 hours because that seems to be my limit these days, but man, I needed it.

Here's my "new" typical day:  I get up at 5:45 and let Chris snore away.  I start my day, get ready for work, wake Chris up around 6:30 or 7 so he's functional when I leave the house and I'm out the door by 7:30 (or 7 if it's Wednesday).  I work til 5, get home around 5:30, walk Haiku/workout/make dinner/do laundry/clean up/whatever needs to be done.  I eat dinner around 8 and fall asleep around 9, only to wake up around 11 because Chris gets home a bit after that.  We're then up until at least 1 if not 2...and back to sleep I go to catch some zzzz's before the alarm clock goes off again at 5:45 to start the cycle all over again.

I'm 41. I love to sleep.  I wake up on the weekends just because I know I'll be taking a nap later.  Sometimes, it's the only reason I get out of bed.  And sleep is muy importante for 1. an alcoholic and 2. a depressive person.  I need my goddamn sleep, otherwise this good mood I've been in for 2 years will start to slowly (or rapidly) slip away.

It's 11:20pm.  Chris just got home and is walking Haiku and will come back, shower and then we'll talk for an hour or so before I pass out.  It's hard to sleep when all I want to do is stare into his blue eyes...

I almost forgot!  Mom surprised me tonight when I walked Haiku over (because that was the extent of my walk with him tonight, lol) to pick up some pictures she had printed.

Look at this stuff!  There's my cast from when I broke my arm in....what grade? 3rd? 1st? Shit, I can't even remember.  The handwriting is pretty piss poor so I think it was first, though my handwriting is still piss poor, so who knows.  And some (more) stuffed animals and my hat and my bear pillow, which I only vaguely remember, but I do remember it. (It was probably brother Chris', lol).  So sweet - where did Mom keep this stuff?  

Ugh.  I'm tired.  But thanks Mom!

"You're the only person I want to spend every night with arguing over what to eat."

OK, I think we all know I'm not perfect. Nor have I ever claimed to be.  I strive to be. I long to be. But I know I'm not and while I fake confidence, security and self-assuredness pretty well, it's fake. All fake. Fake. Fake. fake. fake.

I own my mistakes. I own that I'm a bitch (sometimes).  I own that I get irritable when I don't get enough sleep. I own that I have issues. Many, many issues.  I own that shit.  And I'm damn proud of how far I've come and how well I know myself and how much I've changed.

I "suffer" (god, how I hate that word) from depression.  Haven't "suffered" with it in 2 years, though, and that's because I have a great support surrounding me and my own damn determination to not let it kill me.

I'm an alcoholic.  I have 4 years, 11 months and 24 days sober.  It was a struggle. Remember?  I sure as hell do.  I've lost some damn good friends to death through it, I've struggled with anxiety, I've struggled with the need, the craving for it. I struggle, still.  But I've made it. I've made it almost 5 goddamn years and I'll be damned if I'm going to blow it.

My sobriety has been and will continue to be...not the MOST important thing in my life, but certainly one of the top 5 things I will fight my ass off to keep.  I'm proud of myself for making it this far, but I only did because, again, I have great support and people who love me, and again, my own damn determination.

I'm 41 years old.  I've never been married in a society that thinks something must be wrong with me (*eye roll* no kidding) because no man has "made me his".  I'm proud of the fact that I didn't pop out baby after baby and be a single mother struggling to make ends meet (or fucking up worse than that).  I'm proud that I didn't settle.  I'm forever grateful that I waited; that I knew well enough that him or him or him wouldn't work in the long run.

So when I allow a man into my whole entire life, you can be damn sure that it's special.  I do not do that lightly.  I do not introduce a man to my family without thinking "this could be the one".  I mean, I did, back in the day and then I got smart and other than the ex, my family hasn't met a man of mine in 2 years.  I haven't lived with anyone in 12 years and even that was short-lived because I was an alcoholic and he was an alcoholic and we all know how that usually ends.  Other than the 1.5 months I "dated" the ex, I haven't dated anyone since I was 31.  Ten years. TEN. YEARS.

Granted, I've had my sexual needs fulfilled the past 6 months by random (well chosen) men who didn't mean a goddamn thing.  It was sex.  Plain. Simple.  Now, if a man said that to me, I'd think "Pshaw, yeah, right. Sex doesn't mean anything. Uh-huh, sure."  But really.  Nothing.  It was sex. That was all.  Get in, shut up, get the fuck out.

I have a past. Show me someone who doesn't and I'll show you the most boring person on the planet.  And my past has made me who I am today.  Would I change any of it? OF COURSE I WOULD.  Hell, you think I wanted to try to kill myself so many times?  You think I wanted to become an alcoholic?  You think I like myself when I'm irritable and bitchy?  Hell no!   But, again, would I be in this place, at this time, feeling so damn good, madly in love, really living the dream if I hadn't had to walk through hell?  So, as Marilyn Monroe said:

So, yeah, if you can't handle me at my most irritable, bitchy, moody, frustrated, angry, crying worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.  I'm a handful.  No doubt.  But that's why you have two hands.  I'm a fucking catch.  I may doubt myself thousands, millions of times.  I may look at myself in the mirror most days and think, "God, is that what I look like?!?"  I may think I'm stupid during random times throughout the day....but I do know my worth.  I am smart.  I am cute. I am fit. I am funny. I am fun to be with. I am a great conversationalist. I am well-read. I am damn good in bed. I am affectionate and loving and care deeply when I allow myself to.  I have a wealth of fabulous friends and a family I would kill for.  I know my worth.  Right now...At this very moment...I'm worth a helluva lot more than most men could handle.

Except one.  One who- while he has his jealous, insecure, terrified moments- is exactly what I've been wanting my whole life.  Someone who makes me laugh. Someone who talks to me and listens to me. Someone who cares for and about me. Someone who wants to hold my hand through the worst of it.  Someone who wants to make love to me and to love me. Someone who looks at me with such love in his eyes and who is so damn sincere. Someone who knows his limits and mine.  Someone who reads my mood and understands and gives me space.

*eye roll* I'm not saying he's perfect, by any means.  He fucked up this week..... twice.... but we dealt with it because we love each other and (as I kept saying this week) we're adults.  This is what being in a relationship is about. Communication.  Understanding.  Compassion.  Compromise. You don't just walk away or quit because shit gets hard.  You deal with it.  We're ADULTS.

Here's how I know I've gotten to a good place in this relationship.  I'm not afraid anymore that one day I'm going to come home and find he's gone, Haiku is gone, all the stuff is gone and I'm left....empty.  I'm no longer afraid of that.  Because I know Chris isn't going anywhere.  I've tied him up in the basement.

Just kidding....couldn't resist.

But really, I know he isn't going anywhere.  He's all in.  I'm all in.  We're all in together.  Hell, even Haiku and Meow-cat and Garfield are all in. This is the one.  This is my life.  This is the one for life.

Me, Chris, Haiku

"I hope you still like me now that we no longer have a long distance relationship."

Whoo boy!  I am loving life.  Chris, Haiku & Meow-cat moved in Friday.  Saturday we did a lot of unpacking and straightening and settling.  This morning was the first morning we really felt like "this is home - together".

I love my house.  You all know - I LOVE THIS HOUSE.  But now...it's more than it was.  It's so full of goddamn love, even the animals are starting to get along.

Me watching Garfield watching Meow-cat watching birds.

I woke up yesterday afternoon from a much-needed nap and had a cat laying on my stomach.  I hadn't opened my eyes yet and assumed it was Garfield.  I gently rolled her off of me, opened my eyes and saw that it was MEOW-CAT!  Shocked, to say the least.  She's paying more attention to me than she is Chris, lol.  Then, this morning, I woke up and both cats were on the same bed.  Miracle of miracles.  Garfield's still hissing and growling, but it's more sporadic and I think she's realizing that the two extra four-legged friends are here to stay.  Meow-cat is growing on her and while Haiku growls if either animal gets too close to his food (it's like he's a prisoner and has to guard his food or the other prisoners will steal it, hahaha), Garfield's even getting used to him.  

The house has changed.  It feels homier, definitely more "full", and cozier.  The biggest change is not smoking indoors because I don't want to be responsible for giving Haiku lung cancer.  On the plus side of that, I won't be smoking as much so that's gotta be good, right?  

Damn, I love this man.

Today was Al's memorial service.  Hard. Hard. Hard.  I got to the funeral home and texted Pat (the only other original Wednesday a.m. meeting person left, besides me....We're dwindling and I'm terrified of losing him and being the only one of us left. WTH?).  I went on inside and signed in and looked at pictures...but couldn't bring myself to go in without Pat by my side so I waited until he got there.  When he did, we hugged and I cried. Damn, I hate crying.  We made our way inside, looked at more pictures of Al and his family and then got to Al.  

Did I ever tell you I bought the three guys (& me) AA coins?  They were just small nickel-sized trinkets I found somewhere in CB and bought one for each of us.  Larry (deceased) carried his in his pocket until the day he died and it was buried with him.  Al (now deceased) put his on his keychain and lo & behold, the family placed his latest chip & my coin in his hand.  You can bet your ass that brought on more tears.  Damn. He was such an integral part of my sobriety and I like to think I meant something to him, too.  

I told Pat he needed to wrap himself in bubble-wrap because I can't handle another funeral....losing one of my guys.  There are few left.  So that makes meeting Chris more poignant, don't you think?  

There are no words....

for how sore I am.

JK!  I'm happy! Ecstatic! Blissful!

Haiku

See G'pa Phil top-center?

The rest of the house (upstairs, basement, closet) aren't finished and I won't show you the wreck they're in.  But here's the thing - I'm ok with it!

So. Damn. Happy.  Love of my life....

"Not to brag or anything but I do believe I've earned bragging rights... I've survived the end of the world about 4 times!"

Today is the day, folks.  Today my life changes.  Or does it?  I still can't quite believe it and probably will carry doubt until I see that U-haul drive down my street towards my house and stop and HE gets out.  Even now, at this very moment, I'm protecting my heart because I know if I give myself over to that much hope and it doesn't happen, I will be devastated and will not recover.  So I guard my heart.  Until I see his face...then all bets are off.

Ben, his girlfriend, Misty and her son, Connor, came over last night to help me move my living room couch upstairs.  It did not go well.

Poor Garfield. Stuck with me in the stairway.

Yah.....so......This couch is never leaving the upstairs.  I texted Chris while I was stuck in the stairway, "If I get this damn couch upstairs, you can never leave me. Ever."  He didn't respond because, apparently, my phone doesn't like to receive texts from his?  Thus, protecting my heart.  He said he responded. He called when I alerted him I hadn't heard from him in 2 hours (geez, I'm so needy).  Do I believe him? Sort of...

But back to this disaster.... Thankfully, Mom & Dad returned from vacation in the nick of time and only with Dad's help were we all able to get this beast up the stairs.  So, no, Chris will never be leaving me.  

Hallway ceiling - Chris' first handyman job.

We did a bit of damage.  Oops.  I'm sure if Dad had been there from the start, my walls would still be pristine.  

I've never sweat so damn much.  Why did I bathe after mowing the lawn that afternoon?  I needn't have bothered.  My head was dripping sweat.  I am so gross.

But....I'm as ready as I'm going to be for the man.  Even though I harbor doubt, I've done this:

I hope he doesn't make me look like a fucking idiot.  

I was going to go to my Friday AA meeting this morning but decided I had too much to do.  I had texted my friends, Pat & Al, to see if they were going to be there (Pat was, Al wasn't).  I texted Pat last night to tell him I wasn't going to make it and he responded, "Are you sure you can't make it?"  Made me wonder if something was up with him and he needed me.   I love to be needed, but not because someone's fallen off the wagon.  This morning Pat texted again and asked me to call him.  I did...at 6:40am...as I was taking out the garbage...and found out Al died yesterday.  I kept saying, "Wait, Al? Our Al?" like I couldn't believe it.  I didn't believe. I still don't believe it.  My heart broke.  I broke down in tears, falling onto the stairs.  Garbage sitting at the foot of the garage steps, Pat told me Al was trimming someone's yard and next thing, he was on the ground, dead.  It was his heart.  He was 56.  His poor fucking family.  

I told Pat maybe he should reconsider attending the Wednesday AA meeting since we've lost two good sober friends from that one meeting.  And it's a SMALL meeting! I'm not sure I could take it if Pat died too.  But this just confirms my new philosophy - DON'T WAIT.  Today could be your last day.  How do you want to go out?  With a whimper or a bang?  I'm going to go out blissfully fucking happy.

However....I texted Chris what had happened and he called sounding more down than I do, which made me instantly think, "He's calling to give me bad news.  He'll have some excuse.  His friend didn't show up to help him fill the U-haul.  Something."  Instead, he's worried about how I'm feeling.  He's worried I'm not getting his texts.  He's worried.  I told him this was our day and I'd be damned if anything was going to make me any less happy than I have been this past month.  

Unless he doesn't show up....in which case, I'm going to need a sledgehammer, a baseball bat, and a get-out-of-jail-free card 'cause I will fuck him up.  

"Let's move in together so we never have to go outside again."

Damn, dear reader.  I tried.  I really, really tried...but I can no better keep a secret than I can hold in the many "fucker", "fuck you's" and "such a dick" mutters throughout my work day....which is to say, Not. At. All.

CHRIS IS MOVING TO WALNUT! TO LIVE WITH ME! ME! ME!

*eye roll*

Right?  I'm such a giddy freaking dork who's madly in love with a wonderful, funny, generous, compassionate, loving, sexy man.  How the hell did this happen?

Over the past weekend, we talked about waiting another week and him moving in sometime around the 20th.  But as the weekend progressed, he (finally) came around to my way of thinking, which is, "Why wait?" because apparently, I think something tragic is going to befall one of us and we'll have missed some golden memory moments together so I'm not wasting a damn second.  I didn't push.  I didn't even mention it.  I didn't say, "Hurry. Sooner.  Now."  Nope.  He came to it all on his own and boy was I relieved.  If you had seen me Sunday, you'd've thought I'd popped an ecstasy pill and was flying higher than a kite.

That's a little bit what it's like with him.  I told him, "You intoxicate me.  That's how I feel when I'm with you.  Now I understand the phrase "drunk in love" because that's what this is like.  When I'm away from you, I feel hungover but still a bit buzzed because I'm still so damn happy."

Still sober, btw.

Anyway, Sunday - he made me the happiest woman in the world, saying he would go to work, request Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday of this week off and move, pack up his house, store most of it, clean, etc.  But then we found out he couldn't get the time off and while I (surprisingly) didn't lose my shit Sunday night after finding out - I kept it together pretty good - he said his plan was to move "our" stuff on Friday.  Even still, I woke up Monday in a pretty shitty mood because 1. He wasn't moving in Tuesday, 2. I wouldn't see him until Wednesday and that's only for an hour, and 3. I have to go to that godawful place called "work".

It was a pretty shitty day overall.

I came home and worked that shit out, though, and got to a better place since the endorphins were flowing and I got to work out my frustration on the bag.  Punching bag = best stress reliever ever.

Chris will be moving in Friday.  Friday!  I called Mom & Dad tonight (because they're on vacation) and talked to Mom about it all and in so doing, made it real.  Really real.  Realer.  I'm living in a goddamn fairy tale.  People say that shit all the time and I roll my eyes and think to myself, "Idiot", but here I am....truly living a modern day fairy tale and gladly being an idiot. And I don't know if my mother and father have been possessed or they're just so damn grateful to have somebody take me off their hands, but they've been so supportive of this fast-paced-love-fest that I'm eternally grateful.  Maybe they heard it in my voice. Maybe they saw it for themselves.  Maybe they knew what was happening before I really did.  I like to think so.  Thank you....


I've already cleared space for him in the closet.  I'm slowly sorting through & making room in the bathroom for his stuff.  A nightstand is empty and ready for him. Thursday night, Ben is going to help me move furniture around so we can integrate Chris' stuff into our home...not that Ben knows that's what he's doing, but I did tell him to stretch beforehand.

And then Chris will work Sunday-Tuesday, taking Wednesday & Thursday next week to go through his house thoroughly.  We have a lot of work to do in the next few days & weeks, but at least we'll be doing it together.

"I would climb the highest mountain and swim the deepest sea just to be with you. Fortunately, we live in the middle of Kansas."

'Cause really.  Bitch can't swim.

This past weekend was like a mini vacation - away from Garfield, away from the house, away from work, away from reality.  I spent the weekend at Chris'.

I passed the dog test first.  And whew! Because I think Chris loves that dog more than anything else on the planet.

Saturday morning on our way to a walk...

I could live with this dog.  Haiku, an Akita.  So well behaved.  Doesn't bark. Doesn't jump. Very friendly.

Meow-Cat, on the other hand, took a little longer to warm up to me but by the time I left on Sunday, she was letting me rub her under her chin.  That's a sure sign a cat trusts you.  So I'm in, right?  I'm in.  I passed the first two hurdles so after that, his sisters were easy.

And they were.  Really.  Both of them very nice, funny, classy women.  I probably came across like an idiot because I always feel like I'm 12 around women smarter, funnier, prettier than me.  I haven't heard from Chris whether or not they liked me, which probably means No, but that's ok, because the dog & cat like me.

I left Chris' Sunday around Noon.  It was good to get home, but torture knowing I won't see him until lunch on Wednesday and then for only an hour.  *sigh*

Can't he just be my full-time job?  Wonder if he provides insurance....

*eye roll*

Is this what every post is going to be about from here on out?  Chris, Chris, Chris?  Probably.  At least a lot of them will be.  Prepare yourself for sappy Amy, in love Amy, happy Amy, terrified Amy.  Gird your loins and all that.

I will say, I'm damn proud of myself for being a month away from 5 years sober.  Five-goddamn-years. Can you believe it?  And temptation has been around every corner recently and it's easy for me to say, "No, thanks, I don't drink".  I know what it would cost me and I'm not willing to pay that price for a short-lived-intoxication that will leave my mouth tasting like ass, a raging headache and the worst feeling of shame a person could endure.  I've found something better, something more intoxicating and a helluva lot healthier for me.

His name is Chris.

See? Can't help myself....*head shake*  I've become one of "those" women...annoying, but blissfully happy.

"I swear when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life."

Ok, well not 60.  I mean, who am I kidding?  I'll be lucky to get another 20 out of this body!

*sigh*

I can't even tell you everything that's happened because it's all just a blur.  My days go by "Did I see Chris today or not?"  If I didn't, then my day was full of longing.  If I did, my day was giddy (most days are giddy now, anyway).

He drove to my work-town yesterday for lunch.  *head shake*  Seriously.  For one measly hour with me, he drove 2. I don't get it.  Or maybe I do.  If I could for him, I probably would.  Then we planned on seeing each other Friday when I got to his place....but he surprised me last night by being at my house when I got home from work.  I saw his truck and him sitting on my porch and thought, "Either this is really, really bad or really, really good".  Turned out it was good.  :)

I'm too tired to even write this, but just wanted you to know....things are great. I'm going to his place for the first time tomorrow night (for the weekend) and meeting his two sisters (OMG, I've never been so damn nervous! Sisters are hard, man....hard.  Brothers I could handle, but sisters?!? Damn.) and his pets (Haiku the Akita and Meow-Cat - I hope neither one of them eat my face).  I'm excited to see him.  I'm excited to see his home and how he lives and see him in his environment and meet his family and get to know them...but mostly I'm just excited to spend whatever time we have...together.

But first.....sleep.

"Stop waiting for Prince Charming. Get up and find him. The poor idiot could be stuck in a tree or something."

I can't get "Tender" by Blur out of my freaking head.  I woke up singing it (in my head, of course) yesterday morning and while I do jam to it often, who's singing a song when they first reach consciousness?  Come on, come on, come on, love's the greatest thing.

*eye roll*

Do you remember the multiple times I've said over the past few years how much I love my solitary life and I hate people and I have a bubble around me at all times that very few people can penetrate and how much I just want boys to shut up?  And do you recall how I used to be before?  Before life and men and hurt and pain and depression and tears (god, so many damn tears...) got a hold of me?  I was a popular girl.  I was outgoing. I was fun. I was funny (still am, dammit - you can't take the funny out of a girl).  I wanted to be around people and people wanted to be around me.  I didn't want to be alone so damn much.  I was a very different person in my teens and 20's than I was in my 30's and now....in my 40's...I've come full circle.

I don't know what I mean, exactly, except that Chris (the perfect man) has awakened in me my old self.  I want to spend as much time as I possibly can with him.  Mom said, "But you start out feeling that way about all boys..." which is not totally inaccurate, but not really accurate either.  I can honestly say I've never felt this way about a man before.  Never.  I knew with Chris.  I knew at our first only-an-hour-long lunch date that I wanted more of him and all of him and while I was PROTECTING MYSELF, I was also full of goddamn hope.

He met the folks last night.  He met Shan and her husband, Jason.  He met my buddy Sweetchuck.  It was a lot.  A lot for him to take in and it wore me the hell out.  And then we stayed up all damn night talking and I got maybe 4 hours sleep and I Don't. Even. Care.

You're all going to think I've lost my mind and I'm ok with that, but like I said to Sweetchuck...when you know, you know....ya know?  I know.  I know that Chris is what I've been waiting my whole damn life for and why I've never been married and why I've never allowed myself to be completely and totally overwhelmed by anyone ever before and why I had to wade through a pool of shit to come out on the other side exactly the way I am so I am exactly who he needs me to be at exactly this time.

Or.....he's going to crush my soul.

Either way, no matter what, I wouldn't trade my time with him for anything.  Well, maybe a nap.  I might trade a few hours for a nap because this bitch is tired.  Being social is hard work.