Things are progressing swiftly on the moving-in front. Boyfriend has been clearing out his house, selling off old items he doesn’t need, throwing other items away. I’ve been doing much of the same at my place, trimming my possessions down to a more manageable pile. There are boxes of crap I’ve carried through multiple moves now, just begging to be gone through and disposed of. It’s rather cathartic to let go of so many things. Considering how many times I’ve moved over the years, you’d think I’d winnowed my belongings down to a decent amount, but no. I’m still lugging around more than I could possibly ever need, and then some.

Sex has been elusive for a while. We’re both so busy, then he caught a cold, and there always seem to be kids around. Strangely, I don’t mind. I joke about it, telling him how much I want to get my hands on him, while quietly and patiently waiting things out. I figure if we’re going to be sleeping in the same bed night after night for the foreseeable future, I can be a good girl for now and keep my hands in my pockets.

 

 

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