Another Day

I woke up this morning not remembering what it was like being single. My blog heading reads Another Day in the Same Life: I wake up to the same walls, smell, and light. I’m not so sure how true that statement is anymore. Sure, the walls are the same dull off white color, the light will always be dim but soothing, yet the smells are different now. The sounds are different. The way I feel in my surroundings… different.

After he snoozes his cell alarm for the fourth time, he rolls out of bed and I roll into his warm place to breathe in the scent he left. I usually fall in and out of sleep but never let myself fall completely into unconsciousness because I know the kiss and snuggle good bye is coming soon. What girl in her right mind would want to miss that for a little snooze time?

Today he needed a pair of jeans he said I washed earlier in the week. Not fully comprehending due to the state of wakefulness (or lack thereof) I was in, I told him I hadn’t washed his jeans and got out of bed to offer help. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about keeping my happy ass in the bed while the guy standing in my closet figured out what to do. Then again, normally I wouldn’t have a man staying the night, or be washing his jeans for that matter. I stood there looking at him, a little sorry I hadn’t washed them the night before as I had planned on doing. I pulled a pair of his jeans from the bottom of my hamper to throw in the dryer. At that point I think he realized I was still too loopy from sleep to think straight and told me sweetly not to worry about it. On the way to my sink I remembered where his freshly washed jeans were and with a grin pulled them out of my other closet and presented them to him. Good girl!

A minute later I was sitting on my kitchen counter nursing a Diet Dr. Pepper, watching him make his lunch for the day. I studied his back, the scary tatt on his shoulder blade, his innocent white boxers… thinking he should be wearing black or something with skulls on them. When did these little things begin to amuse me so much?

When he left and the door closed, I stood for a second to listen to his footsteps fade and took in the room. The apartment is so different when he’s not there. I can still smell and see him everywhere -- his cologne, the cell phone he left on my dresser, his shaving gel on the side of my tub.

So yeah, it’s another day, but not so much the same life anymore. Maybe it’s time to change my header…