The instep of my right foot is being held together by tape, gauze, and bandages and is throbbing something awful.

Said injury happened within twenty four hours of moving in to my first real apartment.

Not only did it injure me, but it also managed to injure my brand, new beige carpet—now slightly less beige after my girlfriend carefully scrubbed each stain on her hands and knees to remove the crimson hue.

On top of all of the crazy emotions I’d been having, the anxiety about moving, the way that my relationships will change in this new stage, slicing my foot open was exactly the last possible thing I needed and I devolved into a puddle of tears. Sara, who has been an absolute saint since I first stepped on that stupid, glass lamp in the middle of the living room floor in the dark, on the other hand was completely collected, made sure I was okay on my own before heading out to get bandages of all kinds to piece me back together, and put me to bed. It’s killing me not to be able to help very much in getting things put away or doing laundry or making dinner or driving myself to work in the morning because I’m currently a crippled mess and she has been nothing but endlessly patient.

When I told my boss the whole story this morning, she told me that perhaps that accident was just the thing I needed. In the middle of everything, it was a difficult situation that we could handle and a chance for me to practice trusting her to watch out for me.

And you know, she’s right. After cutting one’s foot and having to rely on someone else to help you for the next several days, agonizing over picking out the perfect kitchen table seems so much easier. I woke up this morning to find the woman I love still in bed—in our bed—beside me. Making French toast for dinner and eating on the floor because our couch and kitchen table haven’t been delivered yet, listening to the rain beat against the windows of our gorgeous (if mostly empty) apartment, and the novelty of kissing her before I go to sleep at night and when I wake up make all the other little annoyances just a little less important.

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