How do I manage to still find myself disappointed at going to bed without you? I suppose it's that I'd spent the better part of two days convinced, sure fire, that travel schedules would align (or not align) to make sleeping with you a possibility. I imagined a night of bar-going or laying around your house drinking wine and winding up in bed super sleepy, half-drunk, all squeezes and sighs. It's my own fault for having such secret high hopes. Even armed with all of the reality I can gather, sometimes it's not enough to keep the most basic things from trying to bubble out.