I’ve moved out, finally. I bought my apartment in the mountains and have started my new, complicated life of living 2 hours away from work and all my friends.
It’s okay, but exhausting. However, the exhaustion is good. It means I’m pushing myself, changing, not being stuck in a rut.
I try to keep climbing and hiking as much as I can, because it does me good. I think I’m finally in state with my unpacking that I can start to relax about putting things away. Most of the major stuff is done, and I just need patience and time to finish the rest. It looks like I can rent the studio part of my apartment this winter, since it’s in a ski area. Someone is already interested. The rent from that should pay nearly all my mortgage.
The lovely part of this moving is that I just spent two days with my ex-cop, with no lying and finagling to do so. We’d arranged to spend Wednesday together, but he invited me Tuesday as well. I took him climbing on Wednesday and he said he loved it. He’s good at it, too, which is rather annoying (I’m just jealous!), but he’s a good athlete so it’s not surprising.
We also had sex three times in two days. I’ve never been so exhausted in my life. It empties you, that much sex.
I had a date to go climbing with Mr. Wonderful the next day. He’s back with his ex-girlfriend, but I really like spending time with him and climbing, and the girlfriend doesn’t climb. So it’s a new friend, someone who’s good for me and who I get along with well. I can always use a friend! But after the debauchery with my ex-cop, I couldn’t climb worth a damn. Two days of sex does nothing to help you perform.
I wonder if you can count sex as a sport?