And so I sit, bleary-eyed and worn out, on the bed, awaiting my mate so that we can read and pray together. Most days, I wonder when I’ll get back to sleeping enough and going to bed early enough again. Most nights, I struggle to fathom how I ever functioned without him in my life. And no, this isn’t a reference to sex – not in the least – but merely a reference to the time of day when we think over everything from the day, almost passively considering everything and regularly discovering how we truly feel about things. As we shower and get ready for bed, we contemplate life. I do, anyway. And my contemplations tend to be glorious these days, even when he does piss me off or I stress him out big time over something.