judecorp | Sometimes I wish I were braver.

So we're walking back from Big Bear, because The Girl was hungry and neither of us ever have anything resembling food in our apartments, and I remark aloud to the night sky that it seems very odd that I won't have my job at the end of the month. I mean, I really did think that I would keep this job until I left Columbus; I would move to another state with a chunk of time at a homeless shelter under my belt. Even as little as one week ago (or less), I hadn't wavered in this thought. Having the shelter cancel the Case Management department caught me blindsided.

So anyway, yeah, I was remarking how surprised I was that my job was ending, and she agreed. It was just sort of assumed that I would work at FM and she would work at a*d*s and then time would come and we would move. So now there's this sort of dissidence in the cosmic planning, and so I turn to her and say, casually, "It's too bad that you don't have the money to blow the state right now."

She begins to present a bunch of (to me) unsatisfactory options: credit, selling more of her pretentious pen collection, etc. Finally she says, "I could sell my car." And in the next breath, on the sidewalk in front of my rosebush, halo'd by the glow from my light, my beloved stops me, turns, and says, "Should I start looking for jobs in California?" And pulls me into her arms for a rather large, overly-displayed street kiss.

That, my friends, is Love.