The next however many posts won’t make sense without some basic information. To review the summer to date: Robbie and I decided on freakishly short notice that I would move to his house for the summer. After a bizarre start, we spent three weeks together in a state of alternating bliss and misery. We agreed I’d go home to my mother’s house, which I did. I stayed there two weeks and we negotiated a week together, to be extended if things were going well. I think we both hoped the second time around, things would stick, and stick firmly, until the end of the summer.

We lasted three days before the big, blow-up, I’m-packing-my-stuff-yeah-you-better-pack-your-stuff fight.

So I rented an apartment near my usual haunts, and I am licking my wounds, and Robbie is licking his. Actually I am not so much nursing sore places as I am just paying attention to me again.

Or, as we were singing together while goofily dancing down the aisles of the grocery store together on the second day of this last trip:

And there’s a rose in a fisted glove,*
And the eagle flies with the dove,
And if you can’t be with the one you love, honey,
Love the one you’re with.

I can’t be with Robbie right now, and the only one else around is me. And right now, that’s just fine with me.

* I really always thought this was “a road in the distant sun”. Knock me over with a cane, had no idea about the kinky rose and glove thing going on . . .