NOTE: Latecomers will note that the Spock mentioned in this post is the author's boyfriend, not the Roddenberry creation portrayed by Nimoy, Quinto, and others. This is not fan-fiction. I just wanted to avoid confusion, considering the title of the post.I'm about to head out, so this will be a relatively short post, at least compared to some of my previous masterpieces. There is only one sentence that can sum up all the insane thoughts buzzing in my head: Spock is gone. Yesterday, Moose [Spock's mom] got the brilliant idea of moving all the furniture, clothing, and what-have-you out of his room and into their new house. In one day. Without telling him that he would be sleeping under a new roof that night. We knew that the day was fast approaching, but I still didn't think that it would come so soon. Needless to say, I cried quite a bit throughout the day. I'd like to think I did a good job of hiding it, though. Today, I'm going up to the house to help organize all the furniture that was haphazardly landed in Spock's room. We got his bed put together, but then it was time for me to leave; his grandma was my ride home, and she was ready to go. Hopefully, if I just keep working, I won't have to think about the fact that when I leave the house, Spock won't be coming with me.
May all your drawers be organized,