I had a minor freak out yesterday.

The gravity of all I have to do at work really hit me. The limited number of hours in the day really hit me. I have so much going on outside of work that it makes it tough to stay late at work to get stuff done.

This is a good problem to have, I suppose. I've not really had this problem since college.

So I was flustered over a project at work. I thought that by being late with my report, I was going to cause some other things to be late which would not make one of our customers very happy (nor our Operations group).

So there's that. Wednesdays are also choir rehearsal night. Normally, on Wednesdays, Missy and I each leave work and meet at the apartment. We go to Jakeeno's for dinner with a bunch of other choir folks, go to rehearsal, and then stay Wednesday night at the apartment.

I had planned to take my lunch hour yesterday to go home and pack for the night. Turns out lunch was provided for me. And I was still super busy, so as the hours rolled by, I was finding I couldn't finish what I needed to at work and go back to the house to pack up and leave the 'burbs early enough to make it into the city.

Our plan for the evening was already off because I had the Flak Radio party to go to and Missy had to stay late at school for conferences.

So I'm flipping out because I just do not have time to do everything that needs to be done. I have two problems. One is the problem of getting everything done and being where I need to be. The other is the problem of my mental state. I was so agitated. You know how you get that spinny, whirly, "my brain is in a blender and I simply cannot think straight right now" mental vibrate-y feeling? Yeah.

I emailed Missy asking if we could come back to the house after rehearsal instead of staying at the apartment. That way I wouldn't have to worry about finding time to pack beforehand.

Later in the day I found out that the deadline for this report I was working on had actually already passed. I still had to finish it asap, of course. But the removal of that artificial stressor made a huge difference and I was able to focus and get it done. So funny how the stress causes all this noise in your head that keeps you from being able to do thing you're trying to do. Not funny ha-ha, but there is that hysterical "I'm laughing to keep from crying" ha-ha.

Here comes the point.

While it was logistically more convenient in the short term (i.e., late afternoon/early evening) to plan to stay at the house and less so in the long term (i.e., late evening, post-rehearsal), the real driving factor for my wanting to stay at the house was because after all that I really needed to be comfortable at the end of the day. I needed to just chill the fuck out and put comfy pants on and snuggle with my girl.

We have still been using the apartment quite a bit. But I only really like doing that when we have places to go. Those places are usually in the city, so it's nice and convenient and all. If we have nothing planned, I'd just as soon stay at the house. Especially now that it's getting cold and staying home probably also means staying inside.

The apartment is the place to do. The house is the place to be.

The apartment has less stuff in it. The house has more of my stuff in it. Although I've learned over the last several months I really do not give a shit about the stuff. I really don't. All I need or want is Missy.

(Okay, I know a while back I went on a diatribe about balance. Balance is still important. I'm doing pretty well in the balance department. If you don't have balance and an internally driven sense of happiness, a partner is not going to give it to you. But I'll add that the right partner can make your already great life even better (and the wrong partner can make it worse).)

Missy bought the house, but we haven't spent a night apart since moving in. The house feels like ours. The house feels like home. The apartment feels like mine, and I'm ready for it to go away.