The End

Let's start at the very end. Which as it turns out is a no good, very bad, completely terrible, could not be more horrendous of a place to start.

But anyone that has seen The Sound of Music would know that.

It's 7:10 a.m. Seth is at the airport. I am at work. The distance itself isn't too great, but already, for this former commitment phobe it's a bit too much. I can't begin to imagine what it'll be like once his plane actually touches down in Nashville.

The Catholic Herald is dark, except for the one light I've chosen to turn on. I'd work in the dark but I have a feeling that would creep out whoever the next person is to come into the office a bit too much. My grande mocha from Starbucks is not helping as I had originally planned. So much for comfort food. Any makeup that I had managed to put on at the not so great hour of 5:15 a.m. is non-existent thanks to the rain-- both outside and coming from my tear ducts.

So in other words, it was a good weekend.

Meet my boyfriend Seth. More details on how that official title came about this weekend to come.

Once the cry splotchies go away. (So in other words, noon).