There’s a guy at work whom I call Jedi. I know I’ve mentioned him in the past–he has a Padawan braid.
Anyway, the other night he came in and the braid was gone. I gasped. “Jedi, did you cut your hair?” (I’ve never asked his real name. He seems amused enough by his nickname.)
He nodded, wearing the same sheepish smile he always does when I call him by his nickname.
I smiled so wide and said, in a voice like a mother commending her first-grader on an S+ report card, “So now you really are a Jedi!”
The Mormon and I went apartment-shopping today. It seems no matter what we do, if we want something in an area where we will not be killed, we’re going to have to get a roommate. I’m a little not pleased about that because it’ll be the first time we’re living together, but I know Cortney and Patrick did the same thing, and they managed okay. Their wedding’s still on. Besides, it’s got to be better than remaining in my house. I’ll be living with The Mormon. I won’t have to lie in my bed alone anymore, missing him and knowing that I won’t see him for another six days. It doesn’t really sound like a lot, but some nights, like this one–it is.
The Blue Rose Journals 