Dear Kay,
Last week at work, I stole a wall calendar from the Postgrad office and was setting it up with all the little stickers and shit it comes with (while sitting cross legged on the floor, it was a nice kindergarten type craft moment). I marked up exams, semester dates, all that crap. And then when I was done I looked back at it and I suddenly thought to myself, I kind of know where I'm going for the next little while. And I'm ready.
Not, obviously, for stupid semester dates. I was more thinking about the next year at work, and home. Squidge and I are moving in together in December, and I can't freakin wait. I've already started buying furniture, plates, knife and fork sets, spatulas. Quite a few spatulas, actually.
And last week I enroled myself in my masters course, so I'm also going to be studying (part time, off campus, at Deaks. I'm hoping they'll give me study leave since I'm reinvesting my pay into their fine system to the tune of like, 15K).
And I emailed Squidge to tell him that I got in and had enrolled myself, and he wrote back that a 'magnifique' summer awaited me (he was in paris at the time)(what's with me and brackets tonight?)(also can't type for shit right now). Anyway, he was right but I hadn't thought of it until he pointed it out. Moving into the house, possibly Christmas at hours assuming that we can wrestle it off his mother, hanging out in our own place doing our own thing on our own furniture. Honestly, I can not wait. I'm predicting BBQs and citronella candles at dusk. Not that we own either a BBQ or a single candle but whatever, we've got two months to get it together before we move in.
And he gets back in 6 days! The cat is very excited, and so am I. I misss himmmmmmmm. I spoke to him this afternoon on the phone, he's in Oslo and it was like 2 am, and he'd just spent the night with a bunch of drunk swedish backpackers (as one does) and even though he'd had company, he still sounded a bit lonely. He's going back to London in a few days to hang out with his mates again before he comes back, and I'm sort of glad of that, because I think...now more than ever, he's feeling a bit isolated. I mean, he's in Norway which is kind of isolated anyway, in terms of the rest of the planet I mean, and it sounds like there aren't many other tourists around because it's so hellishly expensive, so he's feeling like the only outsider around. Apart from the Swedish backpackers.
I'm not worried about him, exactly, but I don't like the idea of him feeling crappy when I can't really do anything about it.
Anyway. It's Sunday night, and his flight lands 9 AM Saturday morning. So, 6 days. Sort of.
I miss you.
--K.
