Wibble

Not for any particular reason, just plain wibble.

I'm feeling wibbly about going to Moorlands next year.

I've been aware these past couple of days that I am single and that has actually been the word I've used to describe myself.

I've felt mildly lost with longing when our new student, when desperately triangulating the various relationships at church, made the fairly reasonable assumption that the guy I was sat next to at the quiz last night was my husband.  No, I do look similar to his wife but she wasn't there and I don't have a husband.

I'm outright *craving* hugs and cuddles at the moment.  I just want to cling on to someone so that the world disappears.

I really want to come in from work after a long day occasionally and have someone look after me.  Not to have to put the next load of laundry on.  Not to have to work out what I want to eat for dinner.

I miss the insanity of the Flat back in the days when I never knew who was going to be here when I walked in the door.  I hated it at the time because Little Miss INTJ just couldn't cope after a long week at work but now I miss it.

There's still more thoughts stuck in my brain, about hugs and friends and the smell of aftershave and the feel of their shirt and accountability and longing and mutually snuggling into each other's necks while hugging in a technical platonic fashion (using "platonic"as the adjective there amuses me because of how I know said friend and the different belief difference involved. Perhaps storge/phileo-ic would be a better description!)