It was six months yesterday. I know it doesn't seem like much, but it is. So much has happened in those short months that it honestly feels like longer. And that's okay, because it hasn't gotten old or reptetive as these things often can. I still wake up and look for him next to me and smile when I see him there. Things like that are the things that matter most.
We spent the day inside yesterday. In and out of bed, mostly in. Last night was a bit rough, maybe it was me picking a fight, maybe it was both of us not wanting to sleep, but we worked though it, got out a few unsaid things. It was good, even if it didn't happen at the best time.
So he's gone and I have the house to myself. I have a few things I want to do, I'm not quite done unpacking my things, so this is a good time to do that, when he's not distracting me.