I guess it's going to happen

The three of us stumbled down to the court house today to get the marriage license: Jane, Miller, me. Well, okay, nobody was stumbling.

Jane and I are standing at the counter, Miller's in my arms, and an attorney who's filing papers says, "Don't do it... oh, I guess you already have."

Jane chuckles. "Yeh, we sort'a went out of order."

"Well," he says, "looks like you know how do to it."

So, now, Jane and I are sitting here at home. She wants to know why I always blog about the negative stuff. Why can't I just be happy? she asks. Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm a pessimist at heart. Maybe my meds aren't strong enough.

The other night Kathleen was by. She's coming to the wedding. And so is my dickhead brother; they don't get along. I said it would be alright: everybody's taking their meds. Kathleen said, "You're not." Oh, oh yes I am.

Last night I spoke with Julie and told her I was getting married. When I told her Jane had asked me, she wondered if it was the Zoloft that said yes.

And speaking of Zoloft, my sex drive has been in the toilet. No, not water sports. More like non-existent. Although, two nights ago, Jane and I did have sex twice in the evening and once again in the morning. The morning was rough and quick and punctuated by cries from the baby. Between the baby's crying and screaming and Jane's moaning, I'm pretty certain we woke the neighbors.

Sorry for the delay in posting; I haven't been all here.

Oh, and Jane wants me to remind everyone to read her take on things. Her blog is here. She wants me to tell you that it's a great read. Truthfully, I don't know, 'cause I don't read it. I'm sure it's full of juicy details about our relationship. I'm sure she disagrees with everything I say. At the very least, you'd get a chance to hear the tale from her point of view.