It's getting to be that time of year again. When summer break is almost over and I have no choice but to get my shit together. The thing that's making it even less fun this time is this: I'm moving. Alone. James has to stay here for work for an indeterminate amount of time. He put in for his transfer months ago, and still no word. He told me once about someone that put in for a transfer that waited a year and a half. I have real fear that I will still be living in Pokey and he will still be living here when we get married. I told him today that I'm getting sad about the move, he said anything could happen, that at any moment they could tell him it's come through. While I believe that, it's not making me any happier.
We've lived together for 14 months now. I've gotten used to having him around. Coming home at night and kissing me, waking me up in the morning with kisses. Wandering in from working outside to see what I'm up to. Spending idle mornings, doing nothing, together. I'm going to miss him painfully.
I haven't started packing yet. It doesn't really feel real yet, like plans could change at any moment. I know the move is set, so I might as well start getting together what I need to be comfortable and survive. Really, it's time.
I'm going to California on Thursday to visit Sunny and do some wedding dress shopping. It should be a good time, and I'm hoping to not get sick this time. We'll see.
