Blogging Bunny-style

She loves him, yeah, yeah, yeah.

with one comment

Sometimes Michael can really infuriate me. When he is stressed, he has a temper like a stick of dynamite with a very short fuse.


I know without a shadow of doubt that there is no-one on the planet that is more perfect for me.

Seriously, it is quite scary how well-suited we are.

Plus he’s cute, sexy, hilariously witty and, dudes, he can be deep. And, like, insightful.

And clever, the man’s no dumbass.

I miss him. Does it show? He’s been away for three days and it kinda makes one re-evalute one’s relationship.

Michael’s nice. I can take him places. And know that everyone will love him and think he’s cute and funny. Like I told him, it reflects well on me. He was a hit at my ten year high-school reunion.

Plus, no matter how we get on each other’s nerves (and believe me, on an off week that can be about 83% of the time 😉 I know he always has my back. Always.

I want to grow old with this person. ’nuff said.

As a bonus, he keeps me in chocolate. He knows that’s all I really need to be happy 😉

Plus, he totally rocks as a co-parent to the chow. (By the way, I’ve had to eat every smarmy word – and there were a lot – I ever said about people who treat their dogs like kids. Although, we don’t really treat her like a kid, just the very much loved pooch that she is. And refer to each other as mommy and daddy when we speak to her which is something else I vowed I would never do. What can I say? Apart from, “Daddy’s coming home today, my poochie-pie!” Ha ha.

I ♥ spending time on my own. I revel in it, actually. But dammit, I still miss my man. Bloody institution of marriage, that makes you feel like you’re missing an arm when your spousal unit is away.

Michael stayed all on his own at the guest house he was booked into. The manager goes home at night and Michael was the only (paying) guest. Not my idea of fun, being in an empty (apart from yourself) house that you don’t know in Jo’burg. M admitted to being a bit nervous.

Bloody crime in this country, making us afraid to go to sleep at night lest we get murdered in our own beds.

I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat myself if I’m alone at night. How I cope with it, is I stay up really late, playing my piano or messing around on the net until I am so tired I just plonk my head on the pillow and go straight to sleep with no anxiety at the odd creaky noise in the house. That’s Beary’s job, anyway.

Last night though, I couldn’t even be bothered being scared or nervous. My newest relapse is starting to hot up and it occurred to me that, if anything, I should be more scared of what’s happening in my own body than anything that may or may not happen in the night.

In the end, I opted out of both and just went to sleep. If I’m going to be murdered in my own bed, I’d rather not be awake for it.

Written by Maggie

October 7, 2009 at 12:41 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

One Response

Subscribe to comments with RSS.

  1. Sheez Magdaleen, This post just made me realise how we have now come to live with this nonsense. Just think of the old lady of 85 who was attacked and robbed of the ring her long deceased husband gave her. 85! And then girls of 4 being raped. Ar these things even human?


    October 16, 2009 at 5:12 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: