Numero Uno...

Alrighty, so here it is. I'm bloggin'. I'm a little uncertain as to what I had hoped to accomplish with my blog, but we'll see I suppose.

Today...today sucks. I'm sick, it would seem. I was fine this morning, totally fine and then not fine. It feels like there is a 300 lb woman sitting on my chest, cleaning out my throat with steel wool. It is not comfortable. In fact, I would not be the least bit surprised if I died in a matter of hours. Now you won't be surprised either.

So tonight, although I am a sick little duck, I think it is time to get some shit boxed up and ready to move. We're supposed to be moving this weekend (as in three days from now), and nothing is ready. Granted, Whil and don't have much to move...but still.
I'm still not sure how I feel about the move. Some days, I'm excited to no end. Other days, not so much. I'm scared, to tell you the truth. This is the first time Whil and I have ever lived together, just the two of us. It's going to be an adventure. Kind of like adventures in babysitting...but no babies, and no sitting. More like adventures in not making ourselves hate eachother. It's scary business! My dad keeps reminding me that living with a boyfriend requires me to think about how my actions will affect (effect? god...why do we have two of the same word?) someone else and not just myself. I tried to tell him I don't need a lecture on how to live with a boy, I mean...I've been married! He made a good point that arguing the fact that I was married once and now am not married is not going to convince him or anyone else that I know how to live with a boy. Whoopsadaisy.

I think we'll be OK though. Yeah, I'm sure we'll be OK. Our apartment is pretty. Whil says it's like living in an Easter Egg. We may have gone a little overboard on the paint choices. Green, blue, orangey-peach...it's all there. How can you be mad at someone when you live in an Easter Egg!?

Gillian gets back from Maui tomorrow. She's going to be all tan, and rested...bitch. :) It's been weird not having her around the house the last week. Little Oliver misses his Mommy! And I do too...not my Mommy, my Gillian. She's a lot like my Mommy sometimes though, so that works too.

And that's about it. I just re-read my last couple paragraphs and I am clearly just rambling incoherently at this point, so I'll take that as my cue to exit.