Shacked Up

Tim has been back two weeks now. My room is cluttered, messy and the extra pressure on my chest of drawers has caused to them to start falling apart. I have to struggle to reach my wardrobe for all the stuff in the floor in front of it that no longer fits inside.

My routines are in tatters. I have to leave the window open at night. I never have left overs for my lunch the next day because he's eaten everything. The gym schedule has gone out the window. He buys sauces in jars (I make them from scratch.)

There's also the little bad habits. He dries himself with my hair towel. I have learned not to watch him wash his face (it's amazingly noisy and messy.) He leaves his trainers in the bedroom. He dumps wet towels on the bed. He kicks, hits and gropes me in his sleep. He wakes up for long periods in the night and potters about. He can't multi-task.

And I fucking love having him around.

He does the washing up. He picks up groceries. He put the sheets in the wash. He cooks and cleans. He gives loads of cuddles and brings me hot chocolates to bed. And I am sure for ever quirk I mention above I have one, too.

It's been very full on but that the same time I've hardly noticed. It's great to have someone to come home to and it is even better to have someone looking forward to you coming home.