I am curled up, under a giant comforter, in a cool room. All would be well if my husband was with me.
Let me explain. I commute. I have class from Monday through Wednesday (it is much more intense than it sounds). My law school is an hour away from my home. After having class from 8:45 am to 9:00 pm, I just can't drive home. I swear, I might not make it. And--there are lots of deer. I just know I would hit one.
So here I am, at my friend Velvet's apartment. Her cats (see "Stoner Kitties") are piteously meowing and yowling and otherwise scratching at the door, desperate for food. Perhaps they can smell the dinner I brought into my room and hid form them. Perhaps Velvet gave them more cat nip (I shudder at the thought).
This commuting is awful. I leave notes for Vor, and he sends me silly and *ahem* entertaining emails and notes, but really. Who envisions their married life as only part time?
The complaining is a good thing, I promise. It means we have a good thing that I hat to leave for even a few days and nights.
3 days ago