(I wrote this last night but was just way too tired to post it so I saved it all for your reading pleasure this morning. Ain’t I sweet? Ha.)

It’s Thanksgiving Monday here in Canada and I’m eating cold pizza instead of a cold turkey sandwich with cheese and tomato and mayo. I’d like to say that I’m happily eating, but some things never change. And some things never get easier, no matter how we try to tell ourselves that they should.

I miss him.

Don didn’t arrive here in Janet Land until almost four in the morning (so if you think my Friday night post was too long, just count your lucky stars that I didn’t come back to continue my pestering in an effort to distract myself!). Way, way, way too late to still be considered Friday night, doncha think? It really was Saturday morning but it mattered very little to either of us. Sometimes I wonder when the novelty of one another will wear off…and then I read a comment from Terri (sorry, sista, but I still always want to call you, “iamthemom”…) about the way that she feels about her husband and their alone weekends together and I decide that novelty is the wrong word. It will never wear off because we will never take another for granted. It took too much to find one another to start getting used to each other now! Anyway, there is always something about the way that the air, no matter how warm or cold, feels and smells and even tastes once I lay eyes on that American Boy of mine. It seems to change somehow. Become sweeter. And lighter. And because of that air, we stood outside, wrapped up in one another’s arms, kissing in between whispering, for quite some time.

And while we didn’t get to bed until after six in the morning and it was surely Saturday morning by THEN, the weekend was only beginning. And I love that feeling.

Saturday started bright and early, despite the late bedtime hour, with a trip to Canadian Tire for the stupid car inspection. It passed and I didn’t hold back with a leap in the air as we left the store and stepped out into the parking lot. Don’t look at me that way! I fucking deserved that leap! Just be glad I didn’t actually kiss the service technician!

And then we headed, straightaway, to the licensing bureau and oh dear God. Let’s just say that I didn’t feel the urge to give anyone a kiss while I stood at the desk arguing and listening to bullshit fucking nonsense from a woman who is paid with my tax dollars. I could feel my blood pressure rising and my face going red as my heart started to beat way too rapidly, scaring me just a little at my anger and yes, my rage. I feel that negatively so rarely that my body just plain doesn’t know what to do with the emotion. I could give you a play by play and tell you that I actually put my hands on my hips, very Kate style, and said, “Listen. I’m not leaving until this car is registered. I’ve had enough. If there’s a problem, you fix it. I’m not leaving” but the details, I’m sure, are boring as hell. And it doesn’t matter because the fucking thing was finally fucking registered, no thanks to bitchy face there at the office and it’s got Ontario plates and we can all breathe a little bit easier now.

And then it was really time to celebrate.

With a nap.

Ha.

And then we shopped. And picked up some Taco Bell. And ate it while we watched Six Feet Under. And we tried, quite successfully, to never not be touching one another. And the primp day paid off. And I fell asleep to Don’s voice telling me that he loved me. That’s one of my “things”. And it might sound silly, but whatever…I like being talked to sleep and Don is the first person to do that for me. Because I very rarely have what one would describe as a good night’s sleep and because most mornings I wake up to a feeling of panic, most of the time, I have trouble settling. Listening to someone quietly talk into my ear soothes me and not only puts me to sleep but also usually ensures a good rest for me, free from dreams of long ago traumas. And it also means that I usually wake up feeling peaceful instead of panicked.

But I digress.

And then Sunday. Sleeping in. Drinking coffee. Showering. Together. And more shopping. And then something we’ve both always wanted to do…

Eat pizza for Thanksgiving.

We kicked it up a slight notch by going to Boston Pizza for something a bit more refined than that which comes delivered to the door but it was pizza all the same. And it was one of the best Thanksgiving meals I’ve ever enjoyed.

In between, we put together two lamps, cursing as we went along and I ran over one of his crutches (not really my fault…no…really…he left it resting against the side of the car and forgot it when I pulled out so it fell and I ran it over but damn, I felt badly…still do) and we argued about appetizers and went to Shopper’s Drug Mart because we have to every time and I introduced to him to Buckley’s because he was coughing and he gave me his cold and we looked up enema porn on the Internet (shiver) and he gave me a foot rub and I gave him Reiki and we still had a tendency to stop in the driveway to whisper and kiss.

I drove him to Ottawa late this morning. Actually, we went to my sister’s place instead of to the airport because it’s easier to get a cab from there to the airport and the good byes are painful no matter where we’re standing. I put him in that cab and kissed him and watched him pull out and cursed this whatever it is that keeps us so far apart. I stood outside for a little while before going back up to Judy’s apartment to compose myself. And then I punched in the code to prompt her to ring me up and I rode in the elevator and wondered when my chest was going to stop caving in.

And then I had a most killer visit with my only sister. We went out for lunch and shared and were personal and talked about herbs and diets and porn and bodies and our parents (of course) and her boyfriend’s parents and I felt grateful. I hope that the word novelty doesn’t do this relationship justice, either, because I never want to take my Judy for granted.

I left her place at around four, knowing both that I had to tack on some extra driving time due to construction and that Troy was bringing the kids home around seven and I had a ton of tidying up and laundry to do (he actually ended up bringing them home early but my annoyance quickly melted as soon as I laid eyes on my little ones. I didn’t realize how I had missed them until I saw them and then that poor, caving chest of mine didn’t know what to do with itself). I got in the car and drove through the scary city stuff, waiting to look for music until the highway appeared.

As soon as it did, I started searching for a radio station. Nothing is set in this car, obviously, for Ottawa and surrounding areas so it took a bit of looking but eventually I found a station I remember listening to going back and forth to the children’s hospital when Michael was still a resident. It plays new rock and new alternative and if you’re very, very lucky, sometimes a bit of punk.

And what do you think came on over the speakers?

Just in case you still believe in coincidences….

“Monday you can fall apart. Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart. Thursday doesn’t even start, it’s Friday, I’m in love.”

No word of a lie.

Only Robert got one part wrong.

It’s Monday.

Not Friday.

And I’m still in love.