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The crazy, it lives here
Jun. 10th, 2009 01:17 amBeloved is away for a few days with work. Alas, my work would not allow me to spend 5 days in Birmingham with him. Not that I tried very hard - Birmingham is not exactly top of my “favourite cities” list. In fact, every time I’ve been I’ve been sorely tempted to lay about me with a flamethrower - I think I can’t think of any city I dislike more and I’ve been to Sheffield AND Newcastle!
I’m totally going to be killed by Geordies now aren’t I? And I suppose someone born and bred in my home city shouldn’t throw stones
Anyway, I digress. He left Monday and will be back on Saturday. Now my first instinct from my hermit brain was: YES!!!! Aloooone! Blisssssfully allooooone! 6 days of just my own company. YAY! Yes, I’m an anti-social hermit who should live in a cave somewhere. Sue me.
And then, reality check hit. I’m trying to think, in all the years we’ve cohabited and all the years we’ve cohabited-but-called-it-housemates-because-of-my-crazy-space-issues (maybe not that surprising given that we technically cohabited before we started dating which is weird and we will not go there) when the last time was that I spent 5 nights together not in his bed.
3 years? 4 years? 5? Ummmm... I’m not entirely sure. I probably shouldn’t poke it or my hermit issues will rise.
Last night was... hard. (In more ways than one. Bad libido, why kick in to overdrive NOW you contrary lust instinct, you?) I managed to nearly strangle myself in my own sheets trying to wrestle them from a cover hog that wasn’t actually there. You’d have thought not having to sleep next to someone who apparently needs 11 acres of sheets ALL TO THEMSELVES would be restful. But noooooo, I’m so used to the battle it seems that I don’t know how to sleep without fighting it. And that’s aside from the nagging feeling that the bed’s too big or too cold.
And then the cat decides to go on a nocturnal wander and knock over the fire irons downstairs. To which the Hypeactive Imagination decides to join Libido and Subconscious in keeping me awake (clearly it was human-abducting serial killer aliens riding velociraptors. It is known) and it’s all made even worse by the (sensible) front brain yelling “oh please, TELL me you’re not afraid of sleeping alone because that would be just too pathetic.”
All in all, it was not a restful night. I am going to be a basket-case by the end of the week. I’m also irritated. Damn it, I’m a hermit. I like being a hermit. I like my herming! You cannot be a feeble co-dependent hermit. Anti-social and co-dependent cannot cannot cannot exist at the same time. It’s just wrong.
Grrr. Stupid brain. At least it gives me time to get some writing done
I’m totally going to be killed by Geordies now aren’t I? And I suppose someone born and bred in my home city shouldn’t throw stones
Anyway, I digress. He left Monday and will be back on Saturday. Now my first instinct from my hermit brain was: YES!!!! Aloooone! Blisssssfully allooooone! 6 days of just my own company. YAY! Yes, I’m an anti-social hermit who should live in a cave somewhere. Sue me.
And then, reality check hit. I’m trying to think, in all the years we’ve cohabited and all the years we’ve cohabited-but-called-it-housemates-because-of-my-crazy-space-issues (maybe not that surprising given that we technically cohabited before we started dating which is weird and we will not go there) when the last time was that I spent 5 nights together not in his bed.
3 years? 4 years? 5? Ummmm... I’m not entirely sure. I probably shouldn’t poke it or my hermit issues will rise.
Last night was... hard. (In more ways than one. Bad libido, why kick in to overdrive NOW you contrary lust instinct, you?) I managed to nearly strangle myself in my own sheets trying to wrestle them from a cover hog that wasn’t actually there. You’d have thought not having to sleep next to someone who apparently needs 11 acres of sheets ALL TO THEMSELVES would be restful. But noooooo, I’m so used to the battle it seems that I don’t know how to sleep without fighting it. And that’s aside from the nagging feeling that the bed’s too big or too cold.
And then the cat decides to go on a nocturnal wander and knock over the fire irons downstairs. To which the Hypeactive Imagination decides to join Libido and Subconscious in keeping me awake (clearly it was human-abducting serial killer aliens riding velociraptors. It is known) and it’s all made even worse by the (sensible) front brain yelling “oh please, TELL me you’re not afraid of sleeping alone because that would be just too pathetic.”
All in all, it was not a restful night. I am going to be a basket-case by the end of the week. I’m also irritated. Damn it, I’m a hermit. I like being a hermit. I like my herming! You cannot be a feeble co-dependent hermit. Anti-social and co-dependent cannot cannot cannot exist at the same time. It’s just wrong.
Grrr. Stupid brain. At least it gives me time to get some writing done