Dear Matt,
I just realized that the best part of working so hard and long was coming home to you. I just worked a really long, non-stop weekend of events, culminating in a A's 4 game sweep of the awful Yankees and I came and felt let down. Walking in the door, knowing no one was here waiting for me, just an empty condo. Its no the being alone, because you know I'm good with alone time, its the not having you here part. I microwaved myself dinner not even bothering to get a plate. Whats the point? I flipped on the tv to my current favorite channel, Lifetime and flopped onto my bed, where I am currently positioned and will probably not move from unless I need sustenance until tomorrow.
I also realized that although I have a very comfy queen size bed for which stretching out on you would think would be inevitable, I find myself curling up on my side. Almost on the edge, without falling off. out of habit. Your side, which is how I still think of it, remains empty and cold. Although I do still hug one of your pillows as I sleep, which still very faintly smells like you. When that scent is finally gone, I don't know what I will do. I guess I could go buy some of your cologne and spray it on random things in my room. Or not.
The A's swept the Yanks today in a 4 game series, but the game wasn't the same without you. The sun wasn't as warm, more scorching really and the grilled cheese just wasn't as good. Things like baseball games just are not the sam without you. Sigh.
Back to my depressing, murderous lifetime movie. More later.
Je t'aime,
E.
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