My dear readers, it is Monday at approximately 9 am. I am exceedingly tired and just a bit angry at the universe. I feel vaguely like kicking someone, and I actually haven't even had a good conversation yet!
I did, however, get to spend around half an hour--off and on--under the covers, snuggling MY chunk of sexy man-ness. And isn't that a mental image I'm certain all of you wanted!
Shawn's like a furnace, and I lose heat incredibly fast. However, there is a point during the day where I am actually warmer than Shawn. A point during the day when my hands are warmer than his. Of course, that is usually a point in time when he can't snuggle me to warm up, because the person running the universe is a fudgehole.
Def: Fudgehole, insult: Someone who has a rear end fashioned entirely of year-old fudge.
I am, other than being slightly miffed, unbelievably proud of Shawn. In a week of living here, he has: Handed out over a hundred resumes at essentially EVERY BUSINESS IN THE AREA, procured for my lovely self a birthday gift, made me laugh and cry, watched Black Butler with me, and GOT HIRED AFTER THE FIRST INTERVIEW.
He is now a lovely employee at _________, which happens to be right by my school! And he seems to really like it there, which is good, because he's WORKING FULL TIME.
My man is a sexy man.
My man is a sexy, SUCCESSFUL man.
I am PROUD of my darling man.
Side-note--I'm noticing it is hard for me to compliment him. Okay, it's hard for me to compliment ANY ONE. The words just seize up in my throat, and I feel like punching myself--anything to get the words out. I need to learn to be nicer. He deserves me to be a lot nicer....
I'm really glad he got the job, because now he will be able to afford an apartment of his own and he won't have to stay with us forever/move back in with his parents. He said that, if he hadn't gotten a job in four weeks, he would've moved in with his parents.
So, right now I'm torn.
Should I celebrate?
Yes, yes I should--my man is HERE, my man LOVES me, and he has gotten a job so he can STAY WITH ME!
Now for the bad stuff--and don't look surprised, because I know you were waiting for it.
Unfortunately, his full-time schedule just happens to be the opposite of school.
Monday: Five pm to ten pm. If I take the bus, I get home at....3:30. It's a half hour drive to work, and a long bus-ride. I also have therapy tonight, which would finish at four--so no Shawn today, I guess.....
Tuesday and Wednesday: Same as today.
Thursday and Friday: Five pm to MIDNIGHT. Guess what! The bus from his work to my house DOESN'T RUN THAT LATE. So my mother, bless her heart a trillion times over, will be driving him home from work.
My dear loves, I'm going to get lonely.....
I go from a week of All Shawn, All the Time to No Shawn, No Time.
I can't wait for the weekend.
Fudge you, Mondays....
Just fudge you.
Now to go to class, and act like I give a damn.
Which I don't.
In case you were wondering.
The One and Only (And Ever-So Lonely) Half-Mad Writer.