Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow
WARNING: SAD TRAGIC MUSHY PUPPY ZOO RANT AHEAD (BUT IT NEEDS TO BE DEALT WITH)
This was not supposed to happen. Five days after the Westie's arrival I am sitting in the library at Uni, trying not to cry after leaving her at the airport. I don't want to go home to my room without her in it, I don't want to see the half-empty bottle of vodka and the stained sheets and to smell her on my pillow... I want her there, now, and for a considerable while to come. I want to cling and giggle and watch kids shows on the telly and wash her down in the shower, I want to taste her when I wake up and be held by her when I sleep. I want her hands around my waist as I do the washing up, I want to bring her coffee in bed, I want her to help me move my furniture and I want to watch sunsets with her. Gee whiz... I sort of saw this coming but it still suprised me somewhat with its intensity! And the fact that it does seem to be reciprocated somewhat suprises me more than anything. Wow.
Of course, on a very sensible level it is all good that she has gone home now. I have writing to write and shows to show and all sort of upcoming adventures and deadlines and parties and art to get through and I do get to see her for ten days or so in July and then in September we have a dirty tryst planned in Melbourne and then most likely see each other in November/December and if we did live in the same city it would all get very whatever-it-would-get very quickly and absence makes the parts grow fonder and there are phonecalls and texts and emails and smutty telepathy to keep in touch with and she has much she needs to do too and... heck, I can rationalise it to buggery and back but I'm still a very messy puddle of red eyes and mussy hair and quivering lip at this moment. Heavens, what HAS gotten into me? Pull yourself together Zoo!
Now for a more Pollyanna note. New countdown has formally begun- 8 weeks 'til I am in Perth and in her bed.
This was not supposed to happen. Five days after the Westie's arrival I am sitting in the library at Uni, trying not to cry after leaving her at the airport. I don't want to go home to my room without her in it, I don't want to see the half-empty bottle of vodka and the stained sheets and to smell her on my pillow... I want her there, now, and for a considerable while to come. I want to cling and giggle and watch kids shows on the telly and wash her down in the shower, I want to taste her when I wake up and be held by her when I sleep. I want her hands around my waist as I do the washing up, I want to bring her coffee in bed, I want her to help me move my furniture and I want to watch sunsets with her. Gee whiz... I sort of saw this coming but it still suprised me somewhat with its intensity! And the fact that it does seem to be reciprocated somewhat suprises me more than anything. Wow.
Of course, on a very sensible level it is all good that she has gone home now. I have writing to write and shows to show and all sort of upcoming adventures and deadlines and parties and art to get through and I do get to see her for ten days or so in July and then in September we have a dirty tryst planned in Melbourne and then most likely see each other in November/December and if we did live in the same city it would all get very whatever-it-would-get very quickly and absence makes the parts grow fonder and there are phonecalls and texts and emails and smutty telepathy to keep in touch with and she has much she needs to do too and... heck, I can rationalise it to buggery and back but I'm still a very messy puddle of red eyes and mussy hair and quivering lip at this moment. Heavens, what HAS gotten into me? Pull yourself together Zoo!
Now for a more Pollyanna note. New countdown has formally begun- 8 weeks 'til I am in Perth and in her bed.
Labels: adventures, lurve, mental health, perviness
posted by Zoo at 8:54 pm
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