Three’s a Crowd?

I was having a really great dream when Paul woke me up, and of course I can’t remember it now.  Something to do with a cat?  Oh well, gone now.  I wish I could remember dreams more often.

Still, I’m glad Paul is reasonably calm in the morning. No blaring alarm, no rough shaking, just letting the motion of his own climbing out of bed wake me followed by a soft “Hey Eric, time to get up”.

I give him a head start downstairs, then make my own way down and curl up on the couch to finish waking up while he makes coffee and gets breakfast going. We’ve been living together for five years now and have this morning routine pretty well worked out.  Paul handles the kitchen and I lay on the couch.  Works for me.  I even like the blues station he tunes the radio to while he cooks.

He gets chatty once he’s had his coffee though, and today is no exception.  He sits next to me on the couch and starts talking about plans for the weekend.  All I can do is just look at him and sigh.  He chuckles and leans over, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head.  Even though I don’t talk in the morning it’s clear that we love each other.

After breakfast we take care of getting ready to go to the office, though heaven help me if I can understand why it takes him ten times longer than me.  We walk together to the bus stop where he talks to that woman Susan who lives around the corner.  I get the feeling that she’s a bit sweet on him, and part of me suspects that he might be falling for it.  I’m going to have to keep an eye on her.  For now, though, I just keep silent, even when she asks me how I’m doing this morning.  I don’t care if it’s rude.

The bus comes and before long we’re at our building.  We walk to the corner and only have to wait a few seconds for the light.  We take the elevator up to our floor and Sally, our receptionist, greets us with a “Good morning, fellas!” that seems just a little too chipper to me.  I think she might have a thing for Paul too, and she gives him a big smile.  Like it matters, right?

“Oh, Paul,” she says as we start down the hallway, “Do you have a sec to help me with something?”

I sigh; here we go again.  I’m just going to make my way back to Paul’s office and lay on my mat by his desk.  He can find his own way back using his white cane when he’s ready.  Or Sally can walk him back herself like she has all week.  Besides, I think she snuck a little treat back there again this morning – I can smell it from here.  Mmmm…a lamb-meal doggie biscuit!  Works for me.

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