Right at the moment, I'm living in a sort of magical zone of perfection. I may never again have it this good. Each morning, Erik and I wake up at the same time, spend 30 minutes cuddling before getting up to face the day while our cats are curled up on the bed with us. I get dressed, ready to go, and fuss with his hair, and we kiss and head off to our respective jobs. I head up to Stanford in the carpool lane with magic stickers that expire in two months. I arrive between 9 and 9:30 and walk down a quiet residential street and into my office, grab a cup of decaf, and start my day. This is where the day-to-day similarities end, but this starting position is so consistently best-case-scenario that I just had to mention it. Soon, I'll lose my access to the carpool lane. In the next year or so, I expect a change of position will mean I need to be here earlier. It's less than a week til we resume Project BorG. Erik is interviewing at two colleges in the next week for full-time positions, and both are an hour from home. So much is on the cusp of changing. It's not that it's changing for the worse. It's just that it will be different, soon. And this moment, this thing right now, I just want to take a moment to say that this is right here is not what I'd ever expected to have, not what I thought I wanted, and it's absolutely perfect and wonderful and that I'm very very grateful for it all right now. It has to change, and that's fine. But right now is beautiful and I want to remember it.