(no subject)
Oct. 12th, 2005 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stormdogI got up an hour earlier than my normal 6 o' clock awakening in order to get all of Andrea and my Ebay sales packed into my truck and out to the post office. She tells me that one of the things she dislikes the most is having to actually go out and ship the stuff, so I offered to try taking one early morning a week and using it to haul everything down to the lovely downtown Kenosha post office.
I like getting up that early when I can. I like the solitude and stillness of the early morning hours. I like being out in the streets and there being almost no one around. I like feeling connected to the city rather than being distracted by all the people.
I got about half of her packages mailed before the bin on the automatic postage machine filled up. There's no one serving customers there until after seven o' clock, but the outer lobby is open at five for access to the auto-clerk. I felt bad that I couldn't get them all done, but there's no way to get around the thing being full. I took the rest of the boxes home and, after piling them into![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wooisme's car, crawled back into bed with her: I still had forty minutes before I had to leave for work and I wanted to take full advantage of them.
I hate getting out of bed in the morning, and it's not just because I don't want to get out of bed. Were there no external considerations, I'd probably get up much more quickly than I do. As I said, I like being up really early. But what I like more than that is simply being under the same warm fuzzy blanket as my beloved.
After my alarm goes off at six, I drag myself out of bed just long enough to rest it for another half hour before diving back under the covers. At six thirty, give or take, I somnambulate into the bathroom long enough to brush my teeth and take care of other start-of-the-day necessities, reset the alarm clock to give myself just enough time to haul my tail out of the house in time for work, say two minutes to seven, and collapse back into bed.
Once there, I nestle under the warm blankets above my mate and I sidle up against her. I might spoon up against her back or, if she's on her side, I might wrap both of my arms around her left one, angling one of my legs over to press my foot against one of hers as if I've read Cat's Cradle one too many times, holding on to my raccoon girl like I never want to let go.
And I don't. Every single morning, all I want to do is hold tight to my beloved and listen to the sound of her breathing, feel her silken hair against my face, be absorbed in the warmth and quiet of our nest. It's a struggle to give up even a second out of these beautiful moments of peace. Maybe that's strange for someone who's lived with their partner as long as I now have, but it just seems so very important to cling to these moments with her. I don't know how much of it is avoiding having to deal with the day, how much is deep seated paranoia of being alone, and how much is just being dead tired, but it all comes together to make me never want to leave. It's honestly a mental struggle to leave even one moment before I have to.
Do any of my readers find themselves feeling the same way, or am I just defective? It's not like it would be the only way I'm defective...
I like getting up that early when I can. I like the solitude and stillness of the early morning hours. I like being out in the streets and there being almost no one around. I like feeling connected to the city rather than being distracted by all the people.
I got about half of her packages mailed before the bin on the automatic postage machine filled up. There's no one serving customers there until after seven o' clock, but the outer lobby is open at five for access to the auto-clerk. I felt bad that I couldn't get them all done, but there's no way to get around the thing being full. I took the rest of the boxes home and, after piling them into
wooisme's car, crawled back into bed with her: I still had forty minutes before I had to leave for work and I wanted to take full advantage of them.I hate getting out of bed in the morning, and it's not just because I don't want to get out of bed. Were there no external considerations, I'd probably get up much more quickly than I do. As I said, I like being up really early. But what I like more than that is simply being under the same warm fuzzy blanket as my beloved.
After my alarm goes off at six, I drag myself out of bed just long enough to rest it for another half hour before diving back under the covers. At six thirty, give or take, I somnambulate into the bathroom long enough to brush my teeth and take care of other start-of-the-day necessities, reset the alarm clock to give myself just enough time to haul my tail out of the house in time for work, say two minutes to seven, and collapse back into bed.
Once there, I nestle under the warm blankets above my mate and I sidle up against her. I might spoon up against her back or, if she's on her side, I might wrap both of my arms around her left one, angling one of my legs over to press my foot against one of hers as if I've read Cat's Cradle one too many times, holding on to my raccoon girl like I never want to let go.
And I don't. Every single morning, all I want to do is hold tight to my beloved and listen to the sound of her breathing, feel her silken hair against my face, be absorbed in the warmth and quiet of our nest. It's a struggle to give up even a second out of these beautiful moments of peace. Maybe that's strange for someone who's lived with their partner as long as I now have, but it just seems so very important to cling to these moments with her. I don't know how much of it is avoiding having to deal with the day, how much is deep seated paranoia of being alone, and how much is just being dead tired, but it all comes together to make me never want to leave. It's honestly a mental struggle to leave even one moment before I have to.
Do any of my readers find themselves feeling the same way, or am I just defective? It's not like it would be the only way I'm defective...
