How can it be so late so…

How can it be so late so soon?

My flight to New Orleans leaves at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning. Which means getting up at 5. Which means going to bed by 9, in theory. Which means...I don't know what it means. It means doing a hell of a lot in the next nine hours.

I am running around like a lonely puppy whose owner just came home, knocking things over as I go. And at the same time, I'm still giddy from Sunday's conversation. Floating. Confused. Having a hard time concentrating on mundane stuff when I want to just stop thinking and ignore all potential pitfalls and trust in true love conquering... I probably shouldn't have re-read that McKillip The Tower at Stony Wood on the plane yesterday. Even though it's the best thing she's done in years and just a lovely lovely book.

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