I sit here on Saturday morning while listening to Non rhythmically tap the fork he's using to beat the eggs he's going to scramble us for breakfast to an emphatic Alanis Morriset song. Though I'm as far away from him as I can be in our medium-sized apartment, I can tell he's shaking his bootie as he taps the fork. It's his "weekend breakfast-cooking, music-listening, bootie-shaking" routine. And I sit here thinking how wonderful it is and how privileged I feel that I know him well enough to know these kind of things.

This week at work was crazy busy, and I'm beginning to realize that this chaos I've been experiencing in my new position is the norm. I was sheltered up front for the first two months of employment at this place, but I'm sure it'll get easier once I actually know what I'm doing. For now, I do the few things they've taught me and look forward to the day when I don't have to ask questions because I already know the answers.

I was talking to a friend of mine from college the other day about how she's going through an aimless period in her life right now. Instead of wallowing in loneliness and delving into a depressive state, she's decided to travel the country for the next three months. I thought that was great. I love having people in my life who take the high road like that. It seems as though I recently came out of an aimless period, but all I could think about was finding a steady job. After I hung up with her, it made me think about where I've come from and, mostly, where I am now, life-wise. Currently, my life as a whole has a better feeling to it than I ever remember having. I consider myself one of those women who, while not a die-hard feminist, had adopted the attitude that I could (and would) be just as happy without a man in her life than with one. And really, I still think that's possible. Then I fell in love, hard. Now, I can't imagine my life without Non, and each day brings new confirmation of that. I don't think it's that I "can't" live without him, because if I had to, of course I could. I simply don't want to live without him. Ever. Articulating it is difficult -- it's not enough to say he makes me happy, although he does. And it's not enough to say we love each other, although we do. What IS it?

He makes me feel whole.

Yeah. That's what it is. To use possibly the cheesiest line from a could've-been-better romantic comedy... he "completes me." It's cheesy. It's sappy. It's ooey-gooey. It's lovey-dovey.

But dammit, it's SO true.