As I've stated repeatedly in the last four months, I've done got me a man. And while I am annoyed at myself for taking as much joy in this as I have, I'm not really sad about it, and am wholly unprepared to change the situation as it now stands. I'm even getting used to talking about him incessantly, because it's been so long since there's been a man in my life worth talking about. Someone that I like, respect, and who only annoys me a little. To be honest, I even kind of miss him when he's not around.
There is a downside. I'm home even less than usual. Chez Peepee is missing me, and I miss it. Today, I arrived home, after scooting out for a booty call at 9 pm last night, to find my newly finished lace scarf, one 16 months in the making, on the floor, and covered in cat barf. I haven't even taken the FO pics, and here I am, blocking it again. Stupid cats. At least it wasn't poop.