This morning I am stuck in my house, immobilized by snow and ice. Really, after being threatened with 3-6 inches of snow, we only received two or so.

Trouble is, though, my car slides all around the road with flurries, so.

I was smart, finally, and brought work home with me. I’m just not in the mood to do it.

I’ve been thinking about the past few days. They’ve been exhausting and exciting and yucky and great. Stephen met my parents on Saturday, which was an event in and of itself. They really liked him, saying he is “nice” and “sweet.” My dad also seemed to think Stephen has a “distinctive” voice and asked if he’d ever been on the radio. I thought that was sweet.

Overall the evening was a complete success. Stephen really liked everyone, and everyone really liked him. He wolfed down two plates of mom’s mostaccoli, which is amazing, because he usually eats like a bird. We looked at old baby pictures of my entire family, and my dad quipped warnings about older women, as he’s two years younger than my mom. (Stephen didn’t listen.)

Friday night I road-tripped down to Rolla, and because the workday was insane, didn’t arrive til around 7p. I love spending time at Stephen’s apartment, because it’s quiet and doesn’t stress me out like time at my own house does. However, I would have to say our first “disagreement” occurred just after midnight.

It was pretty much my fault all the way around. Stephen has a disconcerting - nay, nearly frightening way of demanding communication. I’m the game-player. I want to whine and piss and moan my way around a subject, whereas he just tells me we have to communicate. I did my whole, “I don’t wanna talk about it,” thing and stomped out of the apartment to have a cigarette. And just like the last time I was pissed off, he didn’t follow me outside. And it shamed me.

I walked down the parking lot of his complex, and by the time I got back I was dragging my feet and hanging my head. He’s right - we do need to communicate, even when it’s difficult. And I can already tell he’s not going to fall for the emotionally manipulative games I have an old, bad habit of falling into.

Funny, though - when I went back inside we got into another minor skirmish over something he said. But after openly communicating, we worked it all out, and I felt much better. He seemed to as well.

Sunday passed in a sea of domesticity. Working on the computer, cleaning house, cooking dinner, running to Target. It was all completely natural. Stephen, Justin and I, hanging out with no particular plans.

When Stephen left for Rolla, though, my heart was lonely, and the house was suddenly really big and empty without him.

Yesterday was easily the worst workday I’ve had in a long time. A broker “friend” went postal on my ass and accused me of stealing her clients. Patently false, and incredibly hurtful. A client cancelled her trades, which will be very painful in the pocketbook. All I received was negative news all day long.

There’s very little that’s new and exciting in my world, except for the addition of Stephen. Really it’s just the same old thing. Tax season, post-holiday insanity, and fucking snow.

I hate winter.

Truly,
michelle