It's fairly nice and not too expensive, and as a result, is also miniscule. Ben and I will be living in...510 square feet.
Okay. I can do that. I was expecting to sleep in my studio anyway, and Ben was living in a cage at the shelter, so it's not like he's not familiar with small spaces. (I believe the cage was about the size of my new bathroom, actually.) Walk-in closet, though! Yay!
As for the rest...James had an "Oh my god, what am I doing?" moment of sudden mental clarity, and so he's going to therapy and we're going to...date. It is perhaps peculiar to date one's own husband, but we'll see how it works. If things go well, we'll do the whole run at marriage counseling and, well, lord willin' and the creek don't rise, as they say.
On top of this madness, my agent called with more probably-nothing-will-come-of-it-but-dud
It's like a roller-coaster. Tomorrow the cat will probably die, the next day I'll win the lottery. I sort of want to grab the universe by the lapels and scream "I need some down-time here!"
But this, too, shall pass. And, as Grandma also used to say, "The first hundred years are the worst." So I've only got--what--seventy left, and then it's all smooth sailin' from there....