.81 cents on the dollar and falling (It's like 2002 all over again).

Today I slept until nine, drank tea until two pm, replaced another hard drive in another macbook (like lemmings, they are), bought bad RAM (FUCK), developed a new respect for Shia LaBeouf's emotional music video catalog (themes, holy themes!) and finally got to watch Lucy while I drank some coke and Kraken. Oh, and I went to Dairy Queen, because onion rings and Benjamin, dammit, it's a deep fried mutual admiration society there.

I hope tomorrow is much the same. Though I have to return the RAM. Which is funny because today I returned some PLA filament that was the wrong size. A week ago I returned a snowball microphone and I feel like everything I buy is a two-trip minimum experience. Also the boys have weird and incredibly varied lists of things they need/want/ordered and so I mostly get to tag along as company or go myself as casual personal assistant.

I get paid in candy and hugs, so it's all good.

But that sleeping til nine thing. I can thank my dog for that. I really really needed that.

Chatty little cinnaskulls.

There's been times where I felt
So alone it tried my mind
But you always showed up
Made me feel like I'm alive

Today feels just like a normal average (read: completely uncharacteristic for me) day. It's Friday. It's been nine whole days since I had any coffee and I'm just a little too even-keeled for suspicions not to be raised here. My anxiety levels are down, my kidneys sent me a thank-you bouquet and so far I haven't fallen asleep once mid-conversation. I did fall asleep inappropriately during Hercules when Ben rented it on Apple TV but it wasn't inappropriate after all because the movie was so awful. I woke up just as the credits rolled. I didn't mind a bit.

No jitters. No wild mood swings. I'm not worn out or irritable or craving coffee. It's sort of like when I quit smoking once I realized I got nothing out of it except for bad headaches so I just stopped and then I felt so wonderful but I'm also one of those terrible people who refuses to have any vices or become addicted to anything and can just stop a fledgling habit on a dime.

Except I won't give up starch. Diets don't work at all. Someone mentioned we should go gluten-free again and I laughed and then ignorantly asked if that meant I had to give up cake and potatoes because I don't remember what gluten is again so no, I'll eat those things still, please.

Well, within reason. I need more protein and vegetables. Not bananas. I'm pretty sure I glow in the dark from all the potassium in bananas because I can eat ten in a week, easy. I'm weird with food jags like that. If I open a bag of pistachios it's game-fucking-over because I will eat the whole bag. That started with licorice when I was little because I didn't want to share with the boys so I would just demolish the whole bag in half an afternoon and then they'd never know, but they always knew because I would feel so sick afterward.

So sick. I ate a whole bagful over Christmas and yes, same result. I asked Lochlan not to buy it anymore.

Because I have no self-control, it's better to just not do it all.

You see how this extends to so many areas of my life, don't you?

Yes, I know.

It also takes the pressure off because while Canada heralds the arrival of 'flat whites' to our country's Starbucks, I can just file that name away with the other coffeeish beverages I don't know the difference between, like lattes and...huh, I already forgot. So see? I don't even need to care that I don't know what these things even are, save for that brief period when the castle was within walking distance to a Starbucks and I would go (like five times in five years) and get mochas that were sickly sweet and seemed like inconsistent hot chocolate that cost five dollars.

Also how the FUCK can anyone get one of those super huge drinks? I'd have to pee for months afterward. Does being short mean my bladder is also extra-mini? Don't answer that, I think it is.

But yes, I'm very happy with my one little cup of tea in the mornings and Ben says now if we get a midday date out somewhere we'll have to shift to ice cream!

Sold.

Though I would happy to continue going to the little coffee shop we like best (not a chain, just a counter with two surly employees and a few dirty tables but their music. Oh, their music. Today they were playing Merriment) because they have cinnamon rolls the size of my skull and I've always wanted to try one. I wish someone would make cinnamon bun skulls, that would be cool. Covered in royal icing with dark cinnamon pockets for eyes and a nose and then raisin teeth. I would just pick it up with both hands and sink my own teeth into the forehead and it would be the best thing ever and I would become addicted so fast everyone would wish for the days when I bummed cigarettes off them and tried to pretend I was cool.

I'm not cool at all. That's okay too.

I bet Ben would unhinge the jaw on one of those buns and make it talk. It would say Bridget.....you want coffeeeeeeeee....and I would laugh but shake my head no.

Nice try though.

Friends with penalties.

While Lochlan went to figure out all the details of his soon-to-be imaginary job working for Batman (again) I rolled out of bed headfirst and went out to breakfast with the Devil, who was in such a wonderful mood the only place I wanted to be alone with him was in public. He offered fried potatoes and I'll take those even if they come with a side of death.

Obviously.

Caleb was being nitpicky, evasive and snappish so I responded by being sweet. I asked him if I could pass things and cajoled him to eat his stupid egg-white omelet with a cute smile plastered on that would have to be removed with threats and a lot of elbow grease.

Caleb is in over his head with me, I'm afraid. He can easily overpower me physically but emotionally he has no idea what he's doing, why this is so difficult or exactly how hard Lochlan worked to raise me so that I would be quite unlike any other human being on earth, at least to the point of the typical gimmes that Caleb encounters with most of the women he meets. Nope, I'm nothing like them, and nothing like their opposites either.

He should just walk away before it's too la-

Oh, right. Nevermind. *looks at watch*

He started with awful things while I nibbled on my food. Threats. Promises. Certain complete dismemberment down to my baby tooth. My eyebrows went up and he said those too. But then after I failed to react further (trying so hard oh please please stay stoic, Bee) he softened and warned me about spending intimate time with someone I don't know all that well (I do) and then asked if I was satisfied ripping Loch's heart open always just as it finally begins to heal.

I shrug at that one but he gets a reaction when my eyes spring a tiny leak.

Caleb notices and pulls out fatherly/kind but I don't want that. It's easier if he just yells out of fear than if he sits here and shames me to pieces using Lochlan's feelings as ammunition.

I swallow some of the crow that comes back up and point out that Caleb doesn't have right of first refusal and nothing I've done in the past week concerns him at all, actually.

Then he asks if he should add to my bonus, since clearly it wasn't enough.

I shook my head.

Jesus, most women would say 'how much'? You slay me, Bridget. 

Like a dragon, Cale. 

Like a dragon, baby. A...fire-breathing dragon. He realizes what he means and pushes back from the table, taking a final sip of his coffee. I finish my juice as he shifts his gaze to the floor and somehow I feel like I just ripped his heart open again too.

Velvet disease.

I had my little crow feast. It was disgusting. He grilled it bone-dry, burnt and twisted on the rack and I choked back every last bit until like me, the only thing left was a picked-over carcass.

I will spare you Lochlan's performance at the barbecue but it's safe to say he built me up and tore me back down. He got it all out. He vented at PJ and Ben and Batman too and then Caleb showed up and was promptly ushered out with excuses while Lochlan was tackled to the ground so he wouldn't go after him too. Let's just say it was about as pretty as the grocery store, but with a waterfront backdrop and it wasn't until I finished the meal that he was satisfied that I'd learned my lesson.

But Batman wasn't finished. Batman came back with a job offer. He told Loch he thought time with me was somewhat...sanctioned and then said he wanted to make things right and he doesn't intend to complicate things further. That set Loch back to yelling about how every single man here who wants to touch her complicating things and it took just about forever to settle him again.

And Caleb doesn't even know the details yet. Really, Lochlan's temper is nothing compared to what's coming.

And I think Loch might take the offer to work for Batman, personally, AKA Made up job. Nice paycheque. Very very little travel. This should be great. I give it five months like everything else. I asked Batman what he would be doing and Batman couldn't answer me because he probably doesn't know either so he said something like we can talk about it tomorrow. Come see me at ten because Batman doesn't like to get up early and I know this so I knew he would be home because I'm that evil.

But I'm not that evil and last night after I was done that terrible meal I was picked up and tickled into submission and that was Lochlan's playful cue that he is no longer really mad at me, that I am doing my best.

My best? No. I could do better but what I seem to do best is sabotage myself.

***

As it turns out too I have now managed to infect all four households with strep throat because I'm generous like that. Only the boys are big bearded babies when it comes to being sick and I just keep on going until I drop. They make little coughing noises and sprawl out on the couch, useless or clear their calendars and not even get out of bed. Matt is already feeling better. Sam is still coughing a fair bit but then again so is Ruth.

The only person well enough get anything done at this point is Christian and he showed up wearing a mask. Not a simple face mask like on airplanes, a full tactical gas mask with filter cartridges for biochemical warfare.

That might be overkill, I told him.

He shook his head. I read somewhere that the smallest things hold the most germs. So like pets...babies...Bridgets. 

Nice. 

You're the one who made the rounds. I'm here bored as fuck, minding my own business, the least you can do is shop local. 

Oh my fuck, Christian! You didn't just say that. 

Right. I didn't, actually. Carry on. (For the record, he wouldn't. He has standards that far exceed uh...any woman he's ever met, actually.)

If you don't mind, I'd rather not. I need to reel myself in here. 

Like a fish? 

Like a fish. 

Like a tiny little diseased fish you throw back. 

Yes, exactly. Or flush. We always flushed the sick ones. 

I don't think you'll fit. 

For once. Finally something I'm too big for. The toilet! We should go celebrate. 

Some bitch ate all the crow. The party's over, man. 

Ow. There's no love for me here at all tonight, is there?

No, you see, Missy? That's EXACTLY how you get into these messes in the first place!

Scene kids.

PJ and I had company grocery shopping this morning in the form of one pissed-off Scotsman, who refused to speak to me but also wouldn't leave me alone. He called in sick (more or less, when Schuyler came to get him) and glared at me the whole time and Schuyler was all you were fine yester-oooooh. Okay feel better, man and then he glared at me too.

PJ glared but at least he was speaking. Sam was cranky at breakfast and even John rolled his eyes when he came in and I asked how they suddenly all became these rabid girl-blog readers and Sam said For Pete's sake, Bridget, You don't TALK. How else are we supposed to know what's going on?

Well, next time I'll let you know in advance so when I do my walk of shame you can all come out and watch, like it's a parade or a fucking tour. 

Bridget-

Who was around yesterday? He was. That's it. Everyone else forgot about me so I forgot about all of you too! 

But I didn't mean it and the minute it came out of my mouth I wanted to stuff it back in and choke to death. Lochlan put his arm out and pulled me in close and asked me not to fuck with the millionaires already, that he's sorry he wasn't there. He's only half-apologetic though, the other half is positively bristling with a sparking, snapping current of pure rage. He didn't say any more after that and we resorted to stupid visual cues to navigate trying to shop for ten people, eight of whom eat a lot more than the other two.

PJ didn't say anything though I'm sure if he had right then he would have pointed out the irony of Lochlan apologizing to me because I went and messed around with Batman. I could see it all over his face and so I pleaded with him with my eyes to not say it out loud.

Further down into the store Lochlan lingered for so long at the meat counter I had to go back and get him.

What are you doing?

Selecting a nice juicy breast of crow for you for dinner tonight. 

I'm sorry, Lochlan. 

But you're not. Ben might not give a shit who you're with but I do. I do BIG TIME. He yelled this part and the whole store tuned in for the next part.  Just because we're in a commune doesn't give you permission to sleep with everyone there!

Then he looked around and asked what the hell people were looking at.

You, Lochlan. They're looking at you. 

Yeah, and they see a guy who used to have it all and now has nothing.

You have me.

You're not worth the paper you're printed on, anymore. You used to be such a draw. The crowd favorite. Guess I should be careful what I wish for, huh? The crowd definitely favors you.

I stood there with my lower lip vibrating, trying not to cry and finally told him to finish shopping by himself, that I'd be in the truck. He said FINE and out I went.

I did not have the keys so I climbed in the back and lay down flat on my back in the bed and looked at the sky. The clouds were tinged with 1982 and when I was just about fall asleep Lochlan's head appeared over the edge of the bed, curls damp, face sunburned, breath heavy and he said,

There you are! I was worried someone might have run off with you. And he grinned with relief that I never took seriously until now. I'm making his worst fears come true in an effort to fix mine. The tears came hard now with the sudden rain and 1982 is washed away again in favor of drops stamped clearly '2015'. Loch's face appears over the edge of the truck bed, curls damp and he says, Jesus fuck, I thought you ran off and then he stood waiting for me to need his help getting out because the tailgate doesn't work. The relief is visible in his expression and he asks if I was okay. I shake my head when my feet hit the pavement, No. Not if you're mad. 

If I wasn't mad I'd be a fool, Bridgie. 

So be my fool. 

It never paid very well, remember? 

I nod and he finally smiles slightly. Softening maybe? Nope. Not hardly.

Get in. We're going to go home and prepare your feast! He holds up a tiny cornish hen in one hand. This will be your crow though I imagine it tastes more like pigeon. Oh, well, nevermind, it will do. 

I'm not going to eat it. 

You'll do what you're told. Maybe for the first time in your life! 

A men (sic).

There's a bed tray haphazardly placed somewhere down between our knees, but our heads are pressed together, watching the rain pound against the windows, drumming in sheets, translucent pages with no words. You're supposed to write your own story on this day, maybe, if you can find enough letters still floating in the puddles on the streets once the early workday crowds have dispersed.

Empty juice glasses, champagne, a small bottle of whisky and two half-eaten croissants on plates rest there on a ravaged morning newspaper. The melon and cheese have all been eaten. We've been here for hours. It's a ritual rarely engaged in anymore. It's a weird kind of comfort in which I can center myself again and leave his world to go back to mine. The two hardly glance off each other in their respective orbits these days, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

He meets my hand, raised up to pretend to draw on the glass, and laces his fingers into mine. His hands are soft. The only tools he ever holds are paper and pen. The only time he smiles is when I'm here, I guess correctly, and that's sad but inevitable. I promised nothing here. This is just chance. Sick design. Flawed architecture. Hope for him, worshipping at the religion of Bridget, where Jesus looks like Tinker Bell, tiny and seriously messed up and unworthy and still they come each Sunday in droves to be faithful to she who hasn't shown an ounce of faith in her entire little life and that's why God turned her out early, I'm afraid.

A soft alarm sounds and I moan, frustrated.

I have to go, Bridget. I have work to do. You can stay. 

No, I shouldn't be here anyway. 

Then we're both breaking the spell and I don't have to be the bad guy.

 But I don't move to get up and get dressed. I lie in the cool white sheets and watch him button his shirt. His shirts are as expensive as the Devil's but he is old money and doesn't notice or care. It's just The Way Things Are Done with him and I like that too.

How much did he give you? For your bonus, I mean.

[redacted].

He laughs. You were a slacker? A wink follows. The mood has turned back to playful and all I would have to do is say one word and he would take the shirt off again but I wouldn't do that. I'm unintentionally cruel but never purposefully mean.

Maybe. Think I should go back and campaign for more? 

I would have gone higher but with caveats. 

I bet you would have.

Thanks for a fun morning. Way to start a man's week. 

Mmmmm. I close my eyes. So tired suddenly. It's psychological though. This is a refuge and I don't want to go back out unprotected, naked to the derision of a world that has no idea what I'm about.

But instead of leaving he sits down. I smell aftershave and wool and he's in a lovely black suit and dark grey shirt. His cufflinks are tiny silver flags. His watch is a vintage Breitling that belonged to his father. Repaired with the glass replaced and the strap now three times over.

He leans down and kisses the top of my head. My eyebrows betray my surprise. He's not affectionate, ever and yet this morning has been like Christmas, Easter and my birthday all rolled up into one.

Your hair. I like it. 

Really?

Would Cole have allowed it? Or Jacob? 

Never. 

Then I like it because you did it for you. 

Thank you. I like it too. 

He looks like he wants to say something else but instead he gets up and leaves the room. I don't hear the front door. I do hear his car a few minutes later and I close my eyes. This is not familiar even though it's so familiar. The lack of attachment makes things so easy. The lack of feelings makes it unbearable.

With interest.

Lochlan was up and eating oatmeal at six this morning and out the door by twenty-five after and so the remainder of my day was claimed in short order by the early risers. All of this will eventually be cancelled out by the late risers and I'll be nodding into my turkey soup by eight tonight, back to waiting alone for Lochlan to come home.

Sam brought me to church (ha, seriously a line from that song that is stuck in Lochlan's head that he NEVER stops singing/whistling/humming lately) with him for the early service. Matt will come to the late one. He isn't feeling well. I'm the substitute husband as much as Sam functions as my substitute wife and it's a little funny and kind of nice to be in his sphere of activity sometimes. Sam has turned out to be far more quirky and funny and sweet the older he gets and we mesh well. We mesh too well but no one minds. I sat up front and made faces at him so he could practice his stern but fatherly reverend gaze. Sam's about as fatherly as I am. It doesn't work but he's good at not reacting now. He used to be terrible and it was fun.

During collection I loaded up the plate with chocolate coins from our Christmas stockings, the fifty-dollar bill hidden in the middle just to be a brat and passed it on.

After church I went to say goodbye to Sam and ran outside to meet Caleb, who had pulled up right in front of the doors. He opened the car door for me and as I got in he said we have a breakfast reservation so off we went toward the city. When we arrived he rattled off an order to the server before they had time to properly greet us and I broke in with a warm Good Morning and a revision. Hash browns, fruit, bacon and tea. No to the coffee, egg-white omelet and roasted spinach. Caleb hates to be corrected in public and glared at me and once the server made his escape I pointed out how much I hate egg white omelets, I hate being ordered for because there's no way he could possibly know what I want to eat and also we gave up coffee for one of our biggest resolutions and he knows that.

Diner-manners don't fly in this sort of place, Princess. 

Neither does overstepping your boundaries. 

If you want to see what I look like overstepping my boundaries, then let's go home and I'll show you. 

My glare would have melted the ice jams off a Winnipeg house in March and he actually reeled his evil back in for once. I figured the minute we get to the Boathouse I'm dead in the water anyway so I may as well make my protests loud and early but he surprised me. Not only did he steal half of my hash browns which is a cardinal sin because you don't TOUCH Bridget's potatoes, but when we got back to the boathouse he clearly detailed what he needed as far as work, then he asked me to put on some music of my choice and that if I was efficient I would be back home before lunch.

And here I am. Because I'm efficient. I'm the best damned executive assistant/Analyst/Partner he's ever had, frankly and he knows it. He reminded me that since we have switched to logging hours worked for 2015 instead of me being paid on a per-day basis that I was to input my hours before I left and that if I needed money before payday to let him know, but that my belated holiday bonus was already on deposit.

Oh. I got a bonus? 

Yes, you did, Bridget. Because you work like a dog for these companies and expect nothing. 

Oh. 

So here I am with my banking website open and my Christmas bonus making the balance run off the page because I have to scroll to see all of it and I think he made a mistake so I call him and he laughs as he always does and reminds me that icebergs are usually much larger under the surface (AKA you thought I gave you everything but you were wrong) and not to blow it all on cotton candy and new spark plugs or library fines from towns we have fled or new shoes when Loch burns his or gas or deep-fried food. How easily he can fall with us back into the past. Such a soft place to land these days, isn't it?

Well then what should I spend it on? I ask him as if I know nothing at all now. Nothing at all.

That sort of amount isn't one to be spent, Bridget, it's one to invest. 

And how. 

But I would like to track what you invest in, if that's okay with you. 

You do anyway, I'm sure. 

You're so smart. Sometimes it scares me, Babydoll. When I think you're missing key details, you've already absorbed everything. Good girl. 

I hate it when he says that. Screw cotton candy, I'm going to buy a factory that makes cotton candy.

Pine.

If I'm a pagan of the good times
My lover's the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice

I met him at the door last night. So late. I've been once again fighting sleep. Slapping my ears, pinching my legs, trying to prop my eyes open but he smiles when he sees me because I'm not in Devil-clothes, I'm in Midway-day-off clothes. Bare feet, old jeans, tiny t-shirt emblazoned with a glitter rainbow. Hair sticking up all over the place (damn pixie), no makeup. I look young and untraveled. Unhistoried. Unbroken.

(Oh, I like that one.)

I saved dinner for you.

He drops all of his stuff on the floor. Thanks, Peanut. I'm starved actually. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

Didn't hear from you all day.

We have three months to get this stuff finished and out the door. It isn't going to be pretty- But then he stops and admits his fears. I figured you were busy with Diabhal anyway.

I don't feel so well. I told him I could come and work tomorrow though for a bit.

Me neither. The relief is solid, tangible. Textured with a faint hope clause I didn't know was written in. What did he have to say about that?

I didn't give him a chance to say anything. I didn't say I was going for an even division here, I just don't want to be shut down.. I just. I mean, he's like Cole and I don't have to-

I know, Bridget.

I'm sorry.

You're here. That's more than I expected.

I fed him dinner and we talked about movies for a bit and then we went upstairs and he dropped me down into bed and followed me in the night, pulling my jeans off, my shirt over my head, marveling at the lack of things underneath. Sipping Aberlour from a shared mug and trading bright loud for dark quiet. Just like old times. Just like young Lochlan and Bridget, making love without a recipe.

I'm sorry, I tell him again as I drift off to sleep. Blissfully. Finally. I don't mean to be difficult. I don't want to lose anyone else. In him I have both Caleb and Cole. And I can make him pay the price for his decisions too. You know this, Locket, you told me-

Go to sleep, Peanut. 

But are you mad at me?

We'll talk tomorrow. I don't know what I am. I just can't even think about you going to him or I want to rip my brain out. It hurts so much. 

Sorry-

Sleep! Now!

Okay!

Hungry work.

No Masters or Kings
When the Ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am Human
Only then I am Clean
Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.

I kept one resolution and bailed on the other but the difference is I had a caffeine-withdrawal headache and a strep throat fever now too. I stood in the doorway as he left for work, refusing to make the promise he asked for. It isn't fair. It's a total and utter lack of rules that got him to this place in his life and an endless list of rules that got me to this place in mine and I'm fucking done with this. This is safe-crazy. This isn't hurting anyone. He can handle it. Besides, he's the one who bailed.

Say it, Bridget.

I'm not going to lie to you.

I can't stay. I have to go. I have to finish this project.

So go.

Stay here.

Can't. I have to go undo the damage you've done. Way to leave me the heavy lifting.

Don't go.

You can make up all the grand plans and perfect solutions you wish, it doesn't change a damn thing, Loch.

This is bullshit, Bridget.

Oh, hell, I know that, Loch.

He stood there waiting for me to say something different until he ran out of time but I didn't have anything else to say. I have to take a stand sometime, it may as well be today. He agreed to this. He never said he had to like it or accept it and I never asked him to. I never asked for any of this either but it's what I've got now and I'm not letting go of anyone.

Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me my deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

Waiting for Marty McFly.

Garage. Ten pm. Just before the interesting turn of events that saw me arrive prepared for my own destruction only to leave completely intact.

But I'm drunk. Not falling-down-drunk. Just fuzzy like my head is filled with cotton balls and I know enough to walk slowly and hold rails so I don't stumble in these shoes. These are Devil shoes and they're not easy sober, let alone like this.

I turn the lights on inside. It's so bright. He squints from the sudden flood assaulting his eyes.

Princess. 

Happy New Year, Jakey.

Happy New Year, Bridget. 

He only calls me by my name when he's irritated. God I miss him being irritated. I miss him being anything.

I'm not having anymore, if that's what you're worried about. 

Good. 

Unless he makes me. 

Bridget-

Just don't. I just wanted to see you. 

You shouldn't be over there.

I have bills to pay. 

This isn't the girl I fell in love with. 

I don't know if you noticed but things have changed. 

You haven't changed. 

Too bad about that. 

No it isn't. They should be doing more to keep you safe. 

They can't. I have obligations. 

Sure they could. You don't have to be here. 

This is where I belong. 

No, you belong in a warm little house with someone you love, happy and content. 

I had that once but things are different now. I walk unsteadily back to the door and flip the light off and leave without saying goodbye.


***

I see so little time
My eyes are crossed, my hands are tied
All I wanna do is to breathe in

Their plan worked really well. Someone made me a drink around four and then another around six and by nine I was a little bit a little lit, I'm afraid.  We went to the Boathouse just before eleven, where we hung out in the kitchen, much to Caleb's dismay, for he had to go back and forth from us to the others. Loch kept looking at his watch, to the point of rudeness. Then abruptly at 11:53, he stood up, pulled me up with him, wished everyone who was in the kitchen a lovely New Year's and pulled me wordlessly back home before Caleb was even aware that we had left. Loch pulled me into the house, up the stairs and into our room where he closed and locked the door behind us, looked at his watch once more, and then said Happy New Year, Peanut. This year is going to be different. We're going to get some help and change everything and the Devil isn't invited and then he put his hands up to hold my face and he kissed me like he never seems to kiss me anymore.

I was asleep under the quilts by twelve-thirty and then I didn't wake up until Ben came in (he has a key) around three I think. He kissed me on the shoulder and said Happy New Year Little Bee and I garbled something back and fell asleep mid-kiss and no one woke me until ten this morning with fruit and tea on a tray just for me.

So...Happy New Year.

So far my resolutions are no coffee and no Caleb. He's not going to be very happy. I had just gotten his approval for a less structured, less difficult time schematic. I would go see him if and when I wanted to. He fought me on it but ultimately decided it was the best way, because I would be there only when I wanted to be there. I was actually the only one who thought it was a good idea but while I was thinking up that idea I guess everyone else was thinking up this one.