Down for the count.
At the countdown.
Saturday. On Saturday, my beloved will walk through the door in that tall swinging way he has. He will be exhausted and well-traveled. We will jump on him regardless.
And today I am sick, and not sure that I will make it. I am dragging myself through the day. I'm tired of the glad game. I miss him.
So we are watching BBC nature flicks. And eating mangos. And I am lying on the floor a lot. Only four days to go.