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2008-02-12 - 7:42 p.m.

I have forgotten how much fun it is just to type. I have forgotten the sounds the keys make when you get in your rhythm and hit them and just go, just have something to say and you're going to say it until you're done.

That has got to be one of the best sounds there is. One of the most comforting, to me, and I guess that says a lot about me and how I've evolved over the years.

We're in the midst of moving apartments and I am sick. Everyone at work has the flu, all the kids have the flu, and I kept trying, mentally, to stay away from the flu. I kept thinking "body, you sure are damn attractive and everything, and you're so strong and pretty and please, just wait a week to get sick eh?"

It didn't really work. It kind of did, though, kind of, cause see I don't quite have the flu, but I'm sick enough that carrying three drawers up a flight of stairs winded me and made me feel like sleeping.

I missed work today because of how I feel. And I might just miss some more! Take that, stinky work!

I am not on any medication.

Moving makes me realize just how much stuff Kelly has. Every time I've moved before being with her I really didn't have that much. My clothes, my laptop, a few books, my bed, a pot. That's been about it. Rent a pick up truck and go.

But my god, the things this girl has. Half a million baseball cards, thirty thousand billion gajillion comic books, art supplies, weird chicken things, and a big key that says "we make keys!"

And this is how sure I am of the relationship: I moved my books into the first place we rented. I never, ever moved any of books. Not to college, not to Alabama with Amy.

Books are a fucking pain to move. They're heavy. And people make fun of you for having so many books and then you say "so what, you've got a billion baseball cards of coco crisp!"

Then someone cries. And it's usually me.

I need to go rest. And heal* myself

*That's what the kids call it these days. Wink!

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