Moving...

Okay, 4th of July weekend. Up to my ass in boxes. Moving. A mess. Dirty newspaper fingers. Balotzo. (See my middle finger?)

Don’t even remember my last post. That’s the truth.

Am I stressed? Uh… How many days ago did I say what I said about something, everything. Don’t know. Go stress and oblivion. Go new beginnings and the jack that comes with them before they come, them end’ns and begginings.

The reason for this post? I’m tired. It’s late. I’ve been packing all day. I’ve been packing 7 hours a day after work for 3 weeks, 12 hours a day each weekend for those same 3 weeks on top of those 8 hour work days (jack off 13 years in one place. Too much work. Oh, and f’ off spackle and nail holes, too.)

And, real post reason…. been watching some dumb made for TV movie… a romantic
Cheesy ass thing. (Snarl.)

There is a meet/cute in this move (damn boys and girls and love and all that crap). I’m screwed. I’m missing Watt. Missing someone. My guy. That guy. F?

Being my own team all the time is get’n old.

I am so open to the man who is coming. Yet, I am looking backward a bit. (Wine does that to you.) Wondering how abrupt I was, when I ditched Watt. When I gave him no open. Just an “F U I’m 40, I’m strong, and you aren’t signed up enough!”

I’m fine.

Watt was so short lived in my life. But, take it or leave it… I gotta a top 10. Watt is on it. Forever. I’m gonna miss his smile and his laugh even when my guy laughs louder and smiles more. Watt is just Watt.

It’s not even filled out, yet, this top 10, this how many are to come and have been. But, even so, while I never got to fall in love with him or not, Watt, dumb ass not ready man, I’m f’n mad at him for being MIA in age, MIA in ready, MIA in Now, in… WHATEVER.

I’m tired. I said that. Moving sux. Said that, too.

I’d love a Watt diversion. I’d love that big… Shhh. And that, oh. Shhh more.

Miss’n him right now. Not just. But the more. The smile. The look in his eyes when he was looking at me.

Whether he ever signed up or not, my Watt, my young, beautiful man, get’m giger. He’s in my top 10 of cool, ass, bitchen guys in my life (yeah, yes, got at least 5 or 4 men more to fill outa top 10 since there’s only half or so on the top 10, but…WHATEVER)

My Watt. He’s never gonna know how much he meant, how much I wanted him to mean, but…That’s okay.

Sigh.

Just go’n through a lot right now and wish’n he was, my guy was, on my team right now.

Moving sux. Shit. Did I say that?!

I hate newspaper and boxes and bags and hoping glass won’t break right now. I also hate moving one thing to one place and then moving it to another place before I pack it and then unpack it and then move it, and then move it again, and then clean it and move it to its final place before I throw it away or pack it up and clean and move it again.

Friggen stuff! SuK the trouble!

Big life.
Big move.
13 years.
Lot’s of transition.
Sure could use a Watt kiss right now.

Trouble is… If Watt was as into me, or into what we had as I’d wanted to sign up to it all, I’d never have given up that Watt Now and I’d have Watt in this move, somehow. With help. With? Just with.

But I don’t. I’ve not heard from Watt. That says it all.

But, I accept I am not moving to, with, or along side Watt and anyway. I am, obviously, moving toward other things, other men. Another man.

Ready.

Still, broken record, ouchy for Watt. Boo.

Still miss Watt. Still fill’n like an ass for how much so I miss him even so it was so short of a time we knew each other.

Tired.

Moving sux.

Sigh.

Boo more. Sigh more. Repeat more.

Little tear. A couple more. Rinse and repeat again. Now condition. Okay, detangler that doesn’t work. But try any way.

Lower case fabulous...

Be FABULOUS for me.

Long day.

Too much moving.

Too many boxes.

More tired.

…

huh…