i still have the taste of his tears in my mouth, my distraught boy ...dropped off so soon after i just got hom home.
these sunday departure times have to stop.
not only are they wearing my boy thin around the edges, but our time together is so imortant ...and there is so much to do when moving into a new apartment.

this week, accomplished...a sofa and dining room set (table to arrive on thursday, sofa neatly slid into the back of berthasmith. thank goodness for station wagons and NO $50 delivery fee!) we also went to a wedding two hours away and to a housewarming party.

mainly this gave us very little time to snuggle before exhausted sleep ...let alone eat.

next week...nothing. NOTHING. nothing except the celebration of one year encompassing perhaps a trip to see some sparkly woobies and some nummy food,...served.

i hope next week/end will be better. i can be strong for him, i know i can ...but i hope it is not necessary.

i just want to curl up close, and smell him,...taste his hair
-- not tears.

i worry.