Just a few short days now stand between me and Cowboy. I’ve entered the phase which I like to call “the pre-visit psychosis” which means I can’t remember anything, I do a great deal of faffing about, and I generally cease to function well.
I spent yesterday in the kitchen, using up all of my vegetables in soup. One of my creations was the fabulous Beetroot Haters’ Soup which smelled and tasted quite divine. If I hadn’t been suffering from pre-visit psychosis (PVP) I’d have taken a picture or two.
Today I need to finish a project that I started a few weeks ago, which seemed like such a good idea at the time.
Cowboy and I will have been together for a whole year when I go out there on Monday, which certainly defies my expectations. To mark our anniversary, I’m putting together a scrapbook of pictures from my trip when we met, and what we’ve been up to over the year. This is partly for my benefit too, as I don’t want to forget how we came to be together when it’s such a ridiculous story.
I have a few pages left to do, but with PVP they’ve become quite difficult. I only have a couple of days left to fill the remaining space in the book. It’s been a lovely experience to sit and take time to look back at my photos, think back to our earliest conversations and interactions, and remember all over again why I fell so hard for him.
We had a curious coincidence of thoughts last night. I dreamt that he had turned up in England and surprised me. When I told him about it this morning, he paused and then said “That’s weird. I actually thought a little while ago about what it would be like if I just showed up in England and surprised you. I imagined doing it.”
More likely, we’ve both got seeing each other on the brain and it’s inevitable that we think the same things at around the same time.
I’m pretty excited. One of the strangest things I’m excited about is seeing Cowboy’s dog, Blue Dog.
I’m firmly a cat person. Or I used to be firmly a cat person. These days I’m not so sure. I made friends with a stranger’s pitbull on the tube the other day, and played with my brother’s dog while nobody was looking last weekend. I have an overwhelming urge to shove my face in Blue Dog’s stinky, grubby fur and give him a big hug. He hasn’t had a bath in goodness only knows how long. I can only blame the PVP. No rational person would want to go within three feet of him.
Apart from how he is blindly adoring and obedient (mostly), and just loves attention. He gets a whole double page spread in the scrapbook.