There really hasn't been much to write about right now. Scott got a new job a few weeks ago, but we haven't even been able to begin to start the catch up game yet. But let's leave that for now. First let's talk about the bunghole restaurant Scott is trying his best to tolerate until the other one reopens.
I had hoped they would have improved from the original time he applied there a few years ago. The manager who interviewed him that time hit on him. Nice and professional, right? Well, he escaped the recent interview unscathed, only to dive under the surface, discovering the turds in the pool. They're such mean fags (it's allowed if you're one) who couldn't run a Fisher Price kitchen. They keep scheduling Scott clopens (where you close the restaurant and have to open it the next morning) not taking into account the minimum 90 minute bus ride he has each way. They're filthy, too. Oh, and P.S. Opening a can and throwing in some salt and pepper does not make it "homemade".
Okay, back to the catch up. The money is not as good, so catching up is so much more difficult. I don't pray, but I would gladly offer my services to the old job if it would help them to open up sooner.
Living without a phone is difficult for me and my paranoia. All those important calls I'm missing. You know, like ones from my doctor saying they "found something", or family, or the committee from the sweepstakes I don't remember entering but probably did because I can't be reached right now. Plus the daily hanging on tenterhooks because I not only haven't been able to communicate with the fiancee all day, so who knows what tragedy has befallen him, but also the unexpected shock when I hear someone at the door and I have no idea if it's him or the killer.
I have retreated into some form of emotional bubble where I sit without enjoyment and peek through the blinds to try and catch the next monster coming to take a shit on our little world. And this is where we will have a paradigm shift to the post.
Being on my own until I was 37, I knew nothing more than internally processing my depression, fears, worries and problems alone. There really hasn't been much progress made on the matter, which is my fault, but reeaallyy old habits die freaking hard. You have to stab them continually for years before you make even a dent in the skin of that demon. This must change because it isn't fair to Scott. The gears in my head have mismatched teeth, so way too often I simply forget that I'm not going through this alone, and I'm sorry.
I am not alone. Scott is not alone. We are together in all things us. I am so proud of him for not karate chopping the manager's balls off by now. He is probably the most responsible person I've ever dated, which makes a nice balance. I love him more than anything I've ever known in my life. After 8 years, not a day goes by when we don't vocalize our love dozens of times. Nothing will ever happen to us to destroy that love in me.
Things will eventually get back to normal, as long as I press myself to make sure Himself knows that I am by his side the entire way. This is all stuffing. Sometimes the couch sinks into lumps and you have to unzip the cushions and replace the innards with newer, firmer stuff. So get out of our fucking couch, Roxx, so we can get back to what's important, namely planning the rest of our lives together.
This part is for Scott.
Since we can't text right now, here are my texts and replies from today....
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you.
What time is it? Ok, more.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
Tip your server!
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