My chigger bites have finally stopped itching.
No, okay, that's not it. Although trust me, for a good chunk of last week, as far as I was concerned, that was the most important thing that could possibly happen to me.
No, my lease is up come September, and...to the surprise of hardly anybody...I'll be moving in with Kevin. It'll have been eight months* by that point, and since we do not seem to be getting any less sickening, it only makes sense. Granted that neither of us can get to sleep for beans when separated, it's practically self-defense. To say nothing of the savings on gas money.**
We'd been talking about it off and on for a month or two--usually in cautious trying-not-to-scare-the-other-person terms like "When you move in--err, I mean, if you move in--not that I'm assuming anything, but, uh--" and my personal favorite "You know, we could just change your bio here to "Ursula Vernon lives in Pittsboro with her partner and two dogs and a whole lotta cats..." (Kevin is not a particularly subtle man. This is good, because I take hints about as well as an injured water buffalo.)
We figured Anthrocon was the real test. If, after three days of high stress in (for him) an alien environment, plus two ten-hour car trips, we could still stand each other, it was meant to be. (And yeah, I was a trifle worried--cons are REALLY stressful, and the full flower of furry fandom has knocked many a geek back on their heels.) That monday morning I came out of the shower, yawning, and he looked up from the laptop and said "Okay, for next year we're getting you a more efficient con kit...." and that, as they say, was that.
His kids, which he has on alternate weeks, like me for some unfathomable reason--possibly because I play video games and can be prevailed upon to look at and comment on Pokemon--and greeted the notion with enthusiasm. (His ex-wife didn't, but she doesn't actually get a say in the matter.) Living with kids will definitely require an adjustment period, and it's obviously a sign that I am insanely in love that I am considering it, but the time spent with them has been fine so far, so I'm not all that worried.
(God, I MUST be crazy in love...)
Plus his beagle appears to be adopting me. God help us all.
So hopefully it should work out well. Of course, there's a lot of work between now and then--in addition to the standard moving, which is always a crisis, his house needs a good clean-and-purge, so that one of the spare bedrooms can be cleaned out and turned into a studio prior to move-in (the most likely candidate has small-child-bedroom wallpaper, which has got to go...) And that all gets to happen while I am trying to hammer out Dragonbreath illustrations for Penguin, followed immediately by the script for Dragonbreath II: Curse of the Were-Weiners.
But that's okay. If there weren't at least one crisis, it wouldn't be a move.
Also, his uncle Roy loaned me a scrollsaw over the weekend, so once we get that set up in Kevin's garage, and a few lessons in its use, I can tackle those random-masonite-shapes inspirations when they hit me. He thoughtfully provided a few sample shapes already. Including a "mushroom." Heh heh heh. (Kevin greeted this loan with the stark terror that me and power tools deserve, but I maintain that if someone'll show me how to do it, I am more than capable of not killing myself. Probably. Roy, possibly displaying a latent druidic streak, believes that all woodworking projects require a blood sacrifice, so was largely unconcerned about the possibility. I can understand this.)
*I am still not sure if it feels like it's been that long or not. It feels more like somewhere between a couple of months and a couple of years. I simultaneously want to go "What? It's been THAT long?" and "What? It's only been THAT long?"
**And while "separated for a week" sex is fantastic, it's also very high-impact. I'm not sure if my back will hold until the end of September.