Feeling: rejuvenated
Listening to: refrigerator buzz
Reading/Watching: The Terminal

Mon coeur is healing. The car situation is still unresolved, but mending ribs and paying rent is our first priority for the moment, so I'm choosing not to worry about it.

We've talked over a lot of options, since the wreck puts both him (and by association, me) into a difficult situation, money-wise. He really wants to try living together, so we'd only have to pay one rent and utility bill, instead of two. I'm all for it (I haven't slept in my own bed since graduation, so we practically live together anyway), but some teensy teenaged part of my brain is still curled in a ball, squeaking ohmygod I'm going to live with a boy.

I can't quite get that part to shut up. I'm also not relishing having The Talk with my parents. They're the type to believe I had my first drink on my 21st birthday, and that mon coeur and I have done nothing but hold hands and occasionally kiss for the past 18 months.

So life is about to get more interesting. Since, you know, it was so dull before.

I have also realized, since the boy lost his glasses in the wreck, and has been wearing his indestructible military-issue Larry-King spectacles instead, that I am marrying Dilbert. I knew I had a serious case of dork-love, but even I'm surprised by how damn cute he looks in those things, with his polo shirt and his little cowlick... okay, I'll stop.

Plus, while I was whipping out the digital camera, I decided to take some pictures of the engagement rings: mine, his, and both together. There. Everyone's curiosity is satisfied.

The past several days have made me realize exactly how much has changed. Not in my surroundings, but within me. I remember saying once that I didn't think I'd ever be able to handle a serious relationship, because surely that would become boring after a while. Surely, I would become sick of his conversation, his expressions, his fascination with whatever-boy-gaming-obsession. Surely, I would screw things up and run away, and surely, he would tire of me.

But now, I'm ready for it. I'm in. I'm not quailing at change and afraid of losing everything and wishing I could be five years old again. The thought of moving in together would have once terrified me, because "liekomg what will people think?" but now, I realize, "They will think we are in love and getting married. They will think we want to save money on rent. And that we don't mind each other's morning breath." And it will all be true.

I might still squeak "ohmygod I'm going to live with a boy!" but that statement will immediately be followed with "...yay!"

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