Two hours until the airport shuttle comes for me. I've just gotten out of the shower (well, not JUST... I have clothes on and I dried my hair), and I have laid out my clothes to pack but have not yet actually packed them. I've got time. I've also decided not to eat lunch here and get some at the airport instead. This serves two purposes:

1.) Killing time (I'll get to the airport almost two full hours before my flight leaves, and any of you who've been to the John Wayne airport knows there's only so much to do there).

2.) Saves me a trip to the market (seeing as I really don't have any lunch-making or lunch-having supplies in my kitchen. If I wanted to have lunch here, I'd have to get it elsewhere and bring it back).

Random Realization: I really like the word "needn't". So much quicker and simpler that saying "don't need to" don't you think?

So, Non and I have at least two appointments to look at apartments this weekend. I'm very excited about it, as it's been a long time since I looked for an apartment. I've moved a few too many times in the relatively recent past, but those were all situations where I was moving in with friends or roommates who already had a place, etc. To peruse.... to survey... and, well, let's just say it, to JUDGE a place and whether or not it would be a suitable dwelling is really kinda fun. It's sort of like BEING a Judge, really, minus the long black gown.

And this is the first time I'll be doing it with a boy.

I've never lived with a boyfriend before, and I'm all at once tremendously excited and a little nervous. I was in the market last week, getting some essentials -- Jenny-O Turkey Bacon, Healthy Choice frozen dinners, pasta, Kraft American Cheese Slices, and Baked Lays Potato Chips -- when I realized that very soon I won't be buying groceries for me anymore. I'll be buying groceries for US. OHMYWORD. Does that mean I'll have to actually MAKE some sort of dinner occasionally? Tortilla chips and bean dip won't cut it anymore, will it? Beyond dinner making and grocery buying, this man is going to be privy to really intimate information. How I butter my toast... how long I wait to do the dishes... my tendency to talk back to the characters in whatever tv show I'm watching... how I look when I brush my teeth... how many times I hit 'snooze'... how I always try to crack eggs one-handed, but I never quite get it so I inevitably have to pick out bits of the shell.

WOW.

Once I get over my paranoia, it's kind of a comforting thought. This person will know all my strange little idiosyncrasies and still think I'm fun, still think I'm cute, still want to spend his life with me. We'll be our own Team -- he'll know my secret habits and I'll know his. Our mission, if we choose to accept it, will be to keep these things from every other living creature. I feel a lot of inside jokes coming on.

Hey. Maybe I'm not as scared of this sharing-my-life-with-someone idea as I thought I was. Now we just have to think up a kick-ass Team Name.