Another weekend of marathon driving is over. I tried to think if there was anything profound that comes with hitting the 40 milestone and I have nothing. I could also just be exhausted. I’m also pretty sure I’m carrying some trauma forward about birthdays from my childhood and marriage. One of those learn to expect nothing and you can’t be disappointed when nothing happens situations. I do look forward to your gift, especially since I’m pretty sure you promised it comes with a side of licks.
My neck feels like someone stepped on it because I slept on my sister’s couch while visiting. I do have my infusion tomorrow so while you are getting your uterus tugged on I’ll be trading places with you and getting stuck with an IV, probably in my damn hand. I may go get a massage for my neck so that I can pick up my workouts again tomorrow. I told the kid’s mom that we are back in town and there has been nothing by crickets from her so I’m just going to assume I’ll have them longer than expected while she is off licking some (wo)man carpet. Hah! She texted me while I was writing this.
I did immensely enjoy listening to our playlist during all of that driving. Different songs bring up different fantasies, thoughts, and feelings. I love listening to the songs you pick because something in there made you think of me and that gives me the warm fuzzies. I can’t wait to see you. I love you. That part is so easy. I fully understand why and how the rest is hard/difficult, but I really don’t give a shit. You are worth every ounce of patience I have in my body. I’ll even borrow some if necessary. But we have at least two dates coming up and madam I’ll fucking pray to baby jesus if that is what it takes for the closest one to work out. Otherwise, I might have to finish that intake paperwork.
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