It's 7:12...and I don't have to leave my house till 8? I truly don't understand. I had been scrambling by this time to make the absurd 8 AM deadline for my old office. Now I am sitting with my cats and dog enjoying coffee and deciding what to wear for orientation, which is, uh, like 10 minutes from my house.

This weekend, that guy moves in. That means next week...wait for it...wait for it...

I can hang out in my house until 8 am, when I will leave for work, which is 15 minutes away. I assume this puts me home at 5pm for pre-cocktail Dog Activity and Supervised Outdoor Cat Play. Then my man is done with work and he will send me to the grocery store to buy "inside food" (he buys "outside food" - restuarants, bars) which he will then cook. In this preliminary plan he even does the dishes as long as I take responsibility for all laundry. This will work until there is a complaint lodged against the amount of clothes I have and, in turn, a complaint lodged against me for continuing to leave suits around the house ("but I wanted to shed work") and scattered high heels. "But they don't fit in there!" "You're the one who wanted a whole damn closet!"

You can imagine the next time a J. Crew package arrives at...my friend Emma's door. That's where I'll hide them now! Work them into rotation, everything'll be fine.

Oh and men/low-maintenace better haves, please remember I have 2 70s-area tarped vehicles in front of my house filled with God knows what. But they're owed by a wonderful handsome cook.

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Rotate your head a bit see how happy the baby of the family is to have us all together this weekend!