Not To Count Chickens

Seems like in the next few weeks, Shelley and Steve and I will be homeowners. There's many a slip, yadda yadda, but it's likely.

Stealing words from Steve's last email: Viva la commune!

This is what the stress has been for. I knew that even as I was feeling like my head might pop off, but now that we've a few days calm, I'm feeling it.

In fact, I'm about to snap the laptop shut and head out to the airport to meet Shelley in NYC. I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait. I am going to see her and grab her and give her a big long squeeze of excitement. And probably get a little teary.

I am so fucking excited that I get to live with them, and their Little Dog too.

The plan was to write more about the nature of family and friendship and the owning of things big and little, but all those last minute going-on-vacation house jobs kept extruding from unexpected corners, and here it is 1:38. I need to put on my boots and head out for slightly warmer pastures.