"How much are you really?" asked me one and I had to think. I started counting on his fingers but stopped joint strike fighter after a while. What was the point, I know that I work kind - still. Does it feel like in each case. Some days I am totally ragged and I thank my lucky stars that T is there and sweep up the remains of what had once been me. Other days I come home after a twelve hours long working day and are so keyed up and full of energy that I imagine that I could work twelve hours. Again there t there, and he listens patiently to my babbling. He waits until I fell asleep at the computer or on the couch before he beds down me. He knows every single one of my co-workers, even though he never met them, he is familiar with every little conflict joint strike fighter in the workplace. T is aware of every decision I face, know exactly what keeps me awake at night and have an eye on my planner; joint strike fighter I come home for dinner or not, I'll sleep away or at home, I have a business joint strike fighter trip or conference going on? He's like a quiet harbor patiently waiting for it confused the ship that is I'll sail home. Ask him about never anniversaries, our social network, booked the theater, cinema or parties. He has absolutely zero track of. Loved T - you know we're joint strike fighter going to spend the weekend joint strike fighter with good friends?
Annika Estassys writes blog
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