Last Sunday, I took my princess home. We had spent the day previous at my house, just her and I. I try to give her one on one time with me, but it seems that she is starting to no longer want or need that time on as an obvious level as she once did. My little girl is growing up, and it’s breaking my heart.
I decided to spend the night at my house instead of going back to my girlfriends. I needed to wallow in my own misery a bit. Little did I realize a storm was coming.
While in bed, trying to rest for the next day of pandemic style “working from home” my stomach started twisting in knots, painfully forcing me into a fetal position. Soon enough, I’d be spending long periods of time between that pose and on the toilet, where my bowels decided to act more like a kitchen faucet than a portal to excrete solid waste. But I digress.
Rinse and repeat. This is the story of the majority of my week. It is now Friday, my days and nights are mixed up and my body is in pain from the lack of physical activity. That’s been a theme of my life in the past 5 years, not enough physical activity.
I’ve missed my girlfriend. I’ve missed her heathens (as I affectionately call them). In the last couple of days, the same thing has overcome her. When I was prepared to come back, she told me to stay where I was, and so I have.