It's been a weird couple of days -- since Monday, I've been going non-stop getting my apartment in shape for visitors (not just my other half). So I've gotten all my cleaning in and delivered back to me, the laundry's all done, everything has been dusted, and the only thing left to do is clean out the fridge and run around my place with the Swiffer. All the crap has been stowed, packed away, tied down and/or stuffed into every available crevice in which I could fit it. And I can actually open all the closets without a pile of stuff pouring down on me.
Aside from getting everything ready, and knowing my checklist has been checked, re-checked and checked off, item by item, I'm running on auto-pilot because I want to make sure everything is great. But as we've both discussed, it's not about whether there's dust on the TV door on the wall unit, it's about how we are when we're together. Based on the past, I've tended to forget that very important fact: the little things are, in fact, the little things. The big things: how much fun we have no matter what we're doing or where we are; how we can communicate with one another without speaking; the fact that we're always laughing with one another with regularity; and that there's nowhere I'd rather be on Earth than hanging out with my other half, no matter the time or place. Big things indeed; and it's really nice when the big things are the good things too.
Speaking of good things, I checked out the first four seasons' worth of Seinfeld on DVD; I've been too busy to rip them onto my computer and burn a compilation of one or two discs' worth of the best of the best, but I am looking forward to doing so once a rainy day arrives with no other to-do items on my checklist. That means I'll probably get around to it sometime in 2007 -- mebbe.
More good things: the Yankees continue their climb back to respectability by plowing through the Mets and the Tigers. On top of that good news, Kaia's father and I have a running bet as to whether the Yankees will be within five games of first place in the East by June 4th; he says no, I disagree. And much like his daughter and I, we rarely disagree on anything. But we haven't discussed George W. Bush, the war in Iraq, Vietnam, Billy Joel and the art of racing. Somehow, however, I'm not too worried: the guy's not only lots of fun, he's a menschy, warm guy -- and as I have alluded in the past herein, the squint test works yet again. If you'd asked me a year ago where I'd be today, the last thing I'd have anticipated was being incredibly happy, excited beyond my ability to articulate same, and looking forward to meeting my girlfriend's parents and the future in general. As Hemingway wrote, The Sun Also Rises.
So on top of all the errands and the bullshit my other half and I have endured to get to tomorrow, we both are barely able to contain our excitement at knowing tomorrow we'll be looking into each other's eyes and wondering how we went as long as we did since we last were in one another's presence. A couple weeks ago we were discussing a variety of possible plans on our agenda, including going to a possible Yankee game (in fact, my sister's boyfriend invited us, with them, to a game tomorrow night which we can't attend because her flight gets in too late), seeing a show, going to the Philharmonic, seeing a variety of friends and family, restaurant tours and walking trips. Now that tomorrow is within reach -- a mere matter of hours -- I think it's safe to say that neither of us has anything on our agenda but each other.
And that perhaps is the biggest thing of all.