Back to life, back to reality...

Okay, back to reality.

It was a very nice note. It made me feel so happy. It made me realise how much he values me. Which is always good.

But it's back to work today and so I need to switch my work brain back on. And so all my daydreams need to go back in the drawer ready for such a time as I have more solid evidence to go on.

I sound like a lovesick schoolgirl when I go back and re-read what I've written. I've sort of felt like one over the last few days. And let me tell you, it has not been entirely unpleasant. But the thing with lovesick schoolgirls is that they tend to read too much into thigns.

It was a beautiful thing he wrote. I'm really grateful. But I must see it as a note of thanks to a colleague who has become a valued friend. If I continue believing it was anything other than that, I will go crazy. And I will probably do something I regret.

So go to work, Donnatella, be professional, be pleasant, and do not look too hard into those beautiful eyes. He is your boss, your friend, your soulm- oops, I did it again. He is your boss and maybe your friend. He values you very much and that is good. And not everyone is lucky enough to have a boss who actually expresses their appreciation. You are very fortunate. But you are not going to marry him.

Well, not this year, and probably not the one after that.

So take a deep breath. (And a lot of cold showers.)

Keep calm and carry on...

In excelsis deo...

Wow. I’m walking on air. (or should that be in the air, like that British snowman character? It is Christmas after all...)

Sentences like that one just go to show what today has done to me. I have, quite simply, lost it. I almost cried, for goodness’ sake. Right there in my bullpen. Right there, hugging him. Hugging him till I had to let go because, well, it was work, but I could have held him forever.

He’s a great hugger. Not everyone is good at that. But he puts his whole soul into his hugs. And I could have sworn he did that smelling my hair thing. We all know what that means.

Now my cheeks are aching from all the smiling.

You are, quite simply, indispensable. Essential to my well-being.
And I’m not just talking about the job.

I keep reading it. Over and over. Those are my favorite lines.

I’m indispensable to him. I make him who he is. We make a great team. He said that, too.

I’m indispensable. That means that he can’t live without me. Oh Josh. I don’t want to live without you either. Ever. I don’t want to have children and get old and have grandchildren with anyone else. You have ruined me for anyone else.

Oh, Josh. Go home and dream of your indispensable woman. Then come back after Christmas and kiss her...

I know what you’re thinking. (whoever you are. Like I’m gonna publish this to the world.) But leave me alone. It’s Christmas, and I will dream if I want to. When we go back to the office I will be nice and sensible and forget that maybe, just maybe, today I caught a glimpse of the fact that he cares about me as much as I care about him.

But it’s Christmas, and I will dream. I will dream of a future we can build together for ourselves, our family and ... our great nation.

I’m trying to be deep here but I keep getting mental images of lots of curly haired, dimpled Josh and Joshettes. But blonde. Like me. Okay. Getting ahead of myself here. First we need to – anyway, no, unhelpful to go there. Unhelpful but so... pleasant. So very, very pleasant.

But it’s Christmas, and I will dream if I want to. I will think happy thoughts and get ridiculously ahead of myself if I like. Work can wait. Reality can wait. And for a good few days I don’t even need to try and cover anything up. Which is nice.

Worrying about what he would think if he read this can also wait.

I’m off to re-read what he wrote.

I’m so happy. Did I mention that?

I love Christmas. Who needs skis anyway?

The diary thing...

Well, it turns out calling in sick was not an option. I got called to tribunal.

Josh, one day I am going to tell you how amazing you are and how much I love you and how I am so very thankful to you. Even if we are both 70 and happily married to other people. One day, I am going to thank you like you deserve to be thanked. Right now, I would cry if I tried it and I know you hate that. So I will contain myself.

You picked me up when I was on the floor. Again.

I betrayed you and hurt you and made you angry and you still fought my battle for me. That makes you my hero.

And everyone knows are irresistible heroes.

Heroes with dimples and forgiving hearts even more so.

So it looks like I'm back to square one. I do not think there can ever be anyone else for me.

Sigh. Yeah. We're back to the sighing.

a bit of an oversight

He was so angry. I made him so angry. Man, I hate that. I’m normally the one who calms him down when he’s mad.

He doesn’t own me, though, right? I can go out with whom I like. Right?

Right?

I understand why he was mad. I really do. But it hurt so much to see that look on his face. Like I’d betrayed him. Which, I suppose, I had. But not on purpose. It’s not like I went out of my way to hurt him, out of my way to choose a Republican on Ways and Means. Doesn’t he know I’d rather be with him?

Doesn’t he know that?

But if you can’t be with the one you love... then... love the one you’re with. And with Cliff, I think I could do that. He’s a good guy. He’s funny. He’s cute. He’s... well, let’s just say the other night was GOOD. Yes, he’s a Republican. But not all of life has to be about that. Does it?!?

But that’s all over now. Because it looks like I’d have to choose Cliff or my job. And after just two dates, I can’t possibly make that kind of decision.

It’s all politics. I hate that sometimes. I hate that life has to be so complicated.

I hate that I can’t pursue what could have been a great relationship with a good guy. I hate that I can’t see Cliff again.

I hate that Josh is mad at me. And I hate that for once he’s kind of right to be mad. And I hate that I can’t make it better for him.

Aargh. What a mess. Maybe I’ll call in sick tomorrow...

Manchester

Okay, so it’s going to be a tough one. It’s going to be close. There will be no sleep to speak of.

Josh is going to be intense and I am going to need a lot of chocolate to get through it and a lot of self-control to not just take him in my arms and hold him to calm him down like a crying child on days like today. And there will be many days like today.

He so hates himself when he messes up. He forgets what a great job he does 99% of the time. He forgets how brilliant he is. He should bear in mind all the things he does right.

Besides, we are going to win. There’s no way we are NOT going to win. I simply will not allow it. I'm having too much fun. (Well, maybe not these last few weeks, and we're about due a nice formal dinner I can buy a dress for, but you know what I mean.)

We are, after all, all four years older and wiser than we were the first time round. And, I think, even more determined.

Bring it on... In the meantime, I might start drinking coffee in preparation. And maybe slipping some valium in Josh's. It's okay, I'm kidding. Though not the worst idea in the world.

Our non-anniversary

WHY does he insist on doing that?

He really is the only person I know who can send (beautiful) flowers to be mean. That takes some doing. Creativity, even.

Except, of course, that despite my irritation, I know he is better than that. His underlying reason cannot be meanness. Knowing what I do about him, his underlying reason is more likely to be ego. Pride that I came back to him.

Pride that his ideas and mission and the things he stands for are worth more to me than "Dr Freelove", as he (jealously?) likes to call him. Is that what it is? Or is it more basic than that? Is it a “you chose me over him” thing? Men are quite simple beings, after all...

But that’s a dangerous path to go down. Because that sounds a lot like it’s a personal thing rather than a professional thing.

Oh, Josh. If only I could read your mind. (Well, selectively. I’m sure a lot of what goes on in there is quite scary.) I’m not even sure you can read your own mind, though. Which I’m guessing is part of the problem, if not the root cause of it.

But, despite how annoying you can be, how mean you can seem, how confused you are and I am about this whole thing, despite how much you infuriate me at times and take pleasure in winding me up for your own “entertainment”, despite all that and more -

Are you better than my old boyfriend?

No comparison.

Bartlet's 3rd State of the Union

When I said this was a great job, it wasn’t just because of the handsome British men, either. After all, if that was what I wanted, I could just move to England.

It’s not even just because of the fantastic, inspiring, intelligent women like Joey Lucas, whom I like a lot, and whom, by the way, Josh really ought to gather his rosebuds with, if nothing else so he can get her out of his system.

It’s the adrenaline. Nothing beats those highs. When the President finished his address, jumping to our feet was instinctive. Though I gotta say, sitting so close to Josh during the speech kind of meant I could have concentrated a little harder on the content than I did. I feel like a fourteen-year-old girl when we sit like that, in close physical contact. Butterflies, and all. Ridiculous, I know. Ri-di-cu-lous. And slightly shameful. Because I’m not fourteen. We are about important, nation-changing, maybe even world-changing business. Genuinely exciting. Genuinely worthwhile.

Plus, of course, he’s my boss.

My b o s s.

Must not, must not, must not forget that.

This is so hard. So hard.

Maybe if I focus on just how unbearable he is and how little patience he has, the butterflies will go away. Though it is a lot of fun teasing him at times like this. That power cut was so well timed. Oh Joshua. You crack me up. So easy to wind up. Hours of entertainment. That's why I like Joey so much. She's even better than I am at winding you up, and it's so much fun to watch...