Picking up stakes

I moved out of my little cubicle yesterday, and left for one along the back wall, that is bigger and has a window. I managed to get reasonably settled in by about 3:35 (I moved probably at 2:45), and was set to work again, editing, and fielding questions like always--like everyone else there.

It made me think about my dead and gone sunflower plant, the one I bought in anticipation of the new space. If I had waited one week, he (for I felt it to be a boy) would have been right on time for a prime seat in the sun. But he never saw the sun in my very pleasant, but non-windowed space, and died over the last weekend. I came in on monday to find him already beyond hope.

It is a worn-out saying that everything is about timing, but it is still unequivocally true.

But all is not lost. I consider it a great victory that I was able to be forthright with G about my feelings, and that he wrote back, genuinely sorry for his oversight, and not seeming in any way "weirded out" by my having asked him to go to South Dakota. It very much seemed that circumstances dictated his refusal, and not a lack of interest in being part of the experience.

We chatted briefly last night about a practical matter (he needed me to e-mail him something). I was encouraged even more by being able to hear in his voice that things between us are more than fine. Not more than what they are, but decidedly, sweetly, securely, and warmly what they are.