Why am I tired?

Yesterday afternoon I drove out to My Guy's gym to work out with him. We spent an hour in the muggy place, working pretty hard. Lots of sweat and laughing. He exercises everything overall each time he goes. I target two to three sections pretty hard.

Then we wandered across the street to the local bar for Happy Hour. Margaritas and Spicy Tuna Rolls. Banter with the bartender.

A few blocks north to Golden Gate Park's Arboretum, plunked down on a semicircular bench made of stones from a medieval Spanish church that W R Hearst had brought over. The sun was warm as it went down over the thick trees. More banter, deep philosophical thoughts, meteorological speculation and dumb jokes. Coulda been Italy.

Drove back up the hill to his house. Friendly mayhem ensued.

For dinner, drove out to the Sunset to a hofbrau stuck in the 70's, for food that my grandmother could have cooked, and decor and clientele that would never be ok in Chinatown.

Back to his house. Instructions on how to use the TV when I stay there during his upcoming absence. Review together of a book of Caravaggio's later paintings. Falling asleep on the couch with Law & Order playing on screen in the background.

Wake up and officially off to sleep...as it were. I think we actually did sleep sometimes.

In the morning, I find a cup of coffee for me on the side table and covers pulled up to make sure I am warm. Then I wander out to breakfast, him already sitting there, with bagels, the morning paper, sunshine through the picture windows, wise comments on the news, discussions of Italian grammar, and then a friendly :) goodbye til he comes back from his trip to Europe.

"I'll miss you."

"Oh, and call me when you get home."

No wonder I'm tired.

And one lucky guy.

_________________________