8:08 pm - Sunday, Sept. 08, 2002
Song:
I�m anticipating it far too much, and begging to the phone to ring. He said he�d be home about 9, yet it�s eight and I�m tapping my fingers waiting for his call.
I love that I�ve never had to play the jealous girlfriend, �where the hell were you� part with him. He does his thing, and I do mine, and it plays so nicely into each other.
When he gets home he�ll tell me about his day, and ask me about mine. He�ll ask if I�ve done my homework. I�ll tell him I have, because I actually did. He�ll tell me he loves me, and as always I�ll fully return those sentiments.
My windows are covered in painting plastic that rustles and bubbles with the breeze outside. I adore how light warms though it. I�m all too happy that were having an early, fairly cry fall. We�ve had some of our first rain in a long time the last couple of days, but just for a few minutes before it breaks to silver clouds with golden sky shinning through.
Now my food is bouncing in rhythm to music and impatience, and I feel silly. He said 9.
I�m going to sit here and wish him home for an hour.
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