I can’t believe that just one week ago I was sitting in the middle of an empty living room, half-heartedly alphabetizing my DVDs in the midst of a complete emotional breakdown set to the soundtrack of music by Explosions in the Sky. I was in full panic mode: I had lost Dylan, my life was nothing, I self-sabotage every good thing in my life, my dog is my only friend, etc. It was U-G-L-Y.

A mere week later I am full of smiles, coming down from a lovely weekend spent noshing on a fabulous dinner Dylan made, going to an improv comedy event that I’d previously missed, holding hands while walking around Capitol Hill, and great conversation.

 Yes, it’s cheesy. And I admit it’s even more gross in that I’m publicly admitting how happy I am and how my fears of loss have subsided. I suppose my compulsion to share is partly public closure on that moment and also provide an update for those of you sucked in to this emotional period with me.

Now I leave the phase of panic and fear and tears and general woe and enter one of motivation and organization while hunting for a new housing solution. I have one lead which involves a pretty stellar person, a cool house, and a small move (probably no more than a mile away from where I am not). So I’m happy to report the tales of sorrow and drama will be no more.