Saturday at work

Last night, Pecker called while I was driving. The calculated time block for his anticipated, yet unexpected call was occupied by an extra thirty minutes at the fabric store. That was Mom's idea, which was fine, but I cut shopping short so that I could rush home- it was already 12 a.m. in Canada.

We talked for three hours, which I haven't done since high school. To think, I asked my little sis a few weeks ago what in the world she and her boy friend could talk about on the phone for three hours. I'm still not sure what the answer to that question is because I can recall only bits and pieces of my conversation with Pecker. I'm a little relieved, though, that I didn't bring up the trip again. (He's flying down mid-May and crashing at our place. I've never had a boy sleep over, ever, be it boy friend or just plain friend. There was this one time when IR stayed at my house until 4 a.m., but all we did was talk. So, that's not considered a sleep over.) Everytime we talk about the trip, my patience is tested. I begin to wonder what kind of a miracle it would take to jump from April to the end of May in a millisecond. I have decided that there's only so much I can do to plan the whole thing, from the meeting at the airport to the places I will take him. There is this fear in not trying to control everything, but I figure that it's for the best.

I awoke with a hangover this morning, which slowed me down a bit. But since the cause wasn't due to alcohol, I knew it was okay. Before heading to work, I finally tried on the "pick Pecker up at the airport" shirt. Not so nice. I will have to go back and find something more suitable, or at least something that fits right. I also found out that he doesn't like yellow, which is another good reason to return the shirt. You can't blame me. First impressions last.

I know that I have much experience with good-byes at the airport. This does not make things better for me. It only means that I know how dreadful it is. And every time I step into one, I will either feel the tiny little buggers jump with glee in my heart or wince in pain because, no matter what anybody tells you, good-byes suck.

And with this, my patience is stretched. And when I finally get to that block of time, I will wish for it to last a little longer, even though I know it will go by in a millisecond.