We are home. Three-quarters of us anyway. The other quarter, or fully half if you go by size is still in New York...working. Because that's what he does. When he's not taking dares from bullies, that is. I'm not sure when things shifted to make that so, he always acted like he never cared to stoop to the level of anyone else off the ice. On the ice he's never been much of a pretty player but this time he took the bait on warm ground and we did not have a good trip. Not at all. Who the hell drops everything for forty hours overseas? That's an endurance race I couldn't afford to enter, let alone place in. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.
And contrary to popular belief they failed. And I'm still married. I've got this overwhelming urge to fling a neener neener neener out there but then I'd be stooping too.
(Says she who can barely stand. Oh, if I sober up maybe I'll have more to say but fuck it. This is fine just like it is. And so am I. Fine. Fucked up and totally FUCKING FINE, LOCHLAN.)
