My Sweet Sweet Honeybun

For those of you that may not know, Shmee lives about 1 1/2 hours away from me. We spend the weekends together, which is nice, but of course the distance still puts a bit of a strain on the relationship at times (ok, it puts a bit of a strain on me, anyway). We usually get in a good phone conversation every evening, so I still feel like we're sufficiently in touch, and it's ok.

Tuesday night, we talked for about an hour, just about whatever or nothing. At the end of the phone call, though, he said "Hey, are you wearing a purple shirt?". I wasn't, it was mauve, but I know that for boys, there is pink and there is purple, but there is no mauve. So I said yes, and immediately got very excited that we had perhaps reached a point of psychic connection. He followed up with "and you're wearing blue jeans?". At this point, I started to look around. My living room is in the back of the townhome, with a big sliding glass door that goes out into my back patio that has a tall wooden fence around it, and at the front of the house is the kitchen, but I wasn't in that line of sight. But when he asked if I had just finished a coke, I knew he was somewhere, and finally spied that sneaky boy peeking in a split in the back fence.

So I got a great surprise midweek visit that made me super happy. We ended up watching the election results unfold in stunned silence, but that's ok. We also watched Gothika, which I thought was pretty good, but... something... seemed wrong with it. I recommend it, even though Halle Berry bugs. She's sinfully hot, but I just am not crazy about her.

And that, my friends, is the end of my story about my fabulous darling boyfriend.