Oh Gaaaaawd! Will this torture never end? At least we’re over the half way mark now, and in less than 48 hours from now, I’ll be at Heathrow and doubtlessly hanging around B’s neck kissing him stupid. Went to bed early and woke up to find a few texts from B, that both reassured me and made me ache for him. It’s just gone 12.30pm, too early too call him as it’ll be just 6.30am in Connecticut…… Oh, fuck it – I’m calling him, I don’t care if I wake him up, I need to hear his voice or I’ll go insane! ……unsurprisingly, I got his voicemail. Oh well. Hm… I’ll try again. OK, voicemail. I need to get a bloody handle on myself!
So what does this Thursday hold? This morning was gloriously sunny, and I went for a walk along the river after dropping Monkey off at school. Chiswick is so lovely and I am so grateful to be able to call this beautiful little patch of London my home – I have no idea why anyone would live anywhere else, honestly. Where else does a Thursday morning in January look this amazing?
Right. I’m calling B again, I need to hear his deep voice or I’ll properly lose the plot. ……YAY I got to speak to him. He was a tired wreck. Not because his needy girlfriend woke him (although that probably did add to his voes) but because he had a big night out.
“I was on the whiskey,” he mumbled, his voice all husky and deep.
I couldn’t have cared less about his sore head, so thrilled was I just now just getting to hear his gorgeous voice that seemed so near despite him being on the other side of the stoopid Atlantic. If I had enough words to express how much I love him, I’d outline it right here, but I don’t – nothing put together by letters and words would even come close. 42-ish hours… 42-ish hours….