someday

I'm getting pretty crap at this.

The oh so glamourous career move has (temporarily?) put a damper on my social life, my sleep patterns and my ability to while away entire evenings on the internet.

Mostly all I live and breathe is logistical nightmares and trying to get my head around the burocracy of arts funding in the public sector. It's a completely other planet.

But all that aside, it's starting to be those crisp clear winter days that make me happy to look out the window, but loathe to leave him in bed. One of these mornings when he begs me to stay I just will, damn the consequences. Oh how I miss the casual schedules of student life. Carpe Diem feels a world away lately.

I just keep holding my breath for the day we can hop in the car, drive to our cottage, and unplug the phone for a whole week. A holiday in the country seems idyllic; all long walks and cozy nights and bright stars. Cable knit sweaters and babbling brooks. Homemade soup and log fires. It's like an 80s Lands End catalogue, except the whole dirty sex part.

(Of course I want to stay in an ancient cathedral turned flat in the wilderness because that's fabulous and weird (and has a gothicy wrought iron bed), but his Catholic sensibilities make it difficult to do what I plan to, there of all places. le sigh. But perhaps the private island scenario will work out after all. There no one will hear me scream.)

But today it just feels forever away.

More than 2 months. More than 300 miles. More than a list of print deadlines and proof reports.

More like a lifetime.