I will now focus completely on my journaling and tangible writing.  

I worked 12 hours yesterday and came in early again today to start on paperwork.  I check in to find out that my intake has not confirmed for later today, but I’m reminded that I’m on call.  Another 50+ hour work week wasn’t what I was exactly looking for, but what can I do.  I’m booked all day tomorrow with clients and the Program Assistants downstair enjoy telling me that I’m the only therapist working and the only reason they have to come into work.  

I realize while typing that when my laptop gave in, I lost 30 some pages that I was writing for my book.  I suppose that’s what I get for not backing up my work.  Lesson learned.  Perhaps it’s the universe telling me to start over.  Or maybe to just cut my losses.

I’ll be spending my time after work with Chloe.  We haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together this week, so it’s been a bit difficult.  I realize this will change once we move in together.  I just wish it would happen a bit sooner.  I don’t expect us to do much tonight, though I could really go for one of her iced coffees.  This Saturday I’ll be cutting the grass and doing some more packing.  We just need to allocate some more boxes in order to do so.  

I realize that I need to try to be in a good mood for her tonight.  To be quite honest, my day has been good so far.  I’m continually able to get up at 5:00am without issues. I’m eating healthier and I feel better.  My mood fluctuates, but only because I’m getting used to the adjustments I’m making.

Another weekend slips through my fingers.  I realize this on Chloe’s bed, reading about the AAPI, which I have to give to a client for the first time tomorrow.  While it’s spring break for everyone, it’s funny to not have one for myself.

We spent most of the day at the Montgomery house yesterday—boxing things and cutting grass.  Every time we leave, it feels wrong.  And all I can think of is getting back there and listening to Brown Bird on Bon Iver.  All I can think of is working outside and making plans.

And how Chloe’s bed will turn into our bed and my books will turn into hers and how everything we bought over the years will finally be opened and finally be used.  And everyday I come home from the office, I come home to her.

Being up at 5:00am every morning has been great.  And tomorrow, it will be great.  And the broccoli in my eggs will be great.

I’m obsessed with this girl. And these colors.

I’m laying in bed with the desk light on—just bright enough to read a book on morels. I call Chloe and leave a message.

The Big Sleep is on in the background. Humphrey Bogart makes a joke and punches a man with a gun.

The coffee timer is set relative to my alarm. I’m craving eggs on an iron skillet. Maybe some spinach. I guess I’m just in that kind of mood. I can always tell by my actions whether I’m in a good mood if I’m too absent minded to tell from insight.

And I guess it sets in. I really am happy. I need it to last.

I’m booked the entire day, but luck out with one no show.  I’m able to catch my breath for the most part.  I text Chloe here and there, but it’s not enough.  I miss her unbelievably.  I make plans with her to go out to Pinson Place tomorrow after I’m off work to clean up the land.  

We have great plans for Saturday, already.  We’ll be making breakfast together, taking Maggie to go mushroom hunting, cut the grass at the Montezuma house, box some things up, and spend the rest of the day in love.  

Home, March 2012

Chloe took a picture of our fireplace the other day.

Gregory Alan Isakov, Master & Hound

The ethics conference yesterday hardly concerned ethics and I saw too many familiar individuals to feel relaxed.  My mind wanders through every “ethical” scenario.  People in sports coats or a dark shade of lipstick somehow have remarkably passionate opinions about ethics.  But I’m in another world all together.

It’s after one in the afternoon.  I’ve sat through a CPR and first aid class, laughing silently to myself at how campy the videos are despite being made within the past year.  And then I’m writing a few notes while I’m on call.  And suddenly, I’m driving home.

Tomorrow, Chloe and I are heading over to the house and cleaning the floors, drinking a bottle of wine or two, and listening to records.  It’s very simple.  And that’s what’s so perfect about it.  But I have a full day of clients to get through before I hear her laugh.  The wait is familiar.