Six quarters and a freakin' Canadian coin.
Laundry, laundry, and more laundry. Fun. It is 8:49am on a Saturday morning, and I feel like I'm going to get a lot of things accomplished today. Last week, I hung up a sign in each laundry room that detailed all the stuff I wanted to sell. To date, no calls. It's still the weekend though, so I called St. Vinnie's and they're scheduled to pick my stuff up sometime on Wednesday. It peaves me that they couldn't give me a timeframe. They said they'd call 30 minutes before the driver showed up. Hopefully work's cool with it. Not that I really care. It's my last week next week. Kind of. I go in on the following Monday, but it's just because they're taking me to dinner and stuff. Like my productivity's going to be oh-so high that day. :P

So. Doing laundry. And suddenly, I had this thought of the many things that make Matt .. well. Matt. And my boyfriend.

I love how he laughs. It's boisterous and fun! I love how, when I lay sleeping on the couch, he comes over and gives me little kisses on my cheek and my forehead. Tickle fights. They rule with him, even though we practically kick the crap out of eachother. I had a bruise to prove it! We're talking like pinning arms down with legs and stuff. (And I won. Like I always do. *duck*) I like how he sometimes orders for me in restaurants. He holds the door for me. He tells me I'm pretty. He's blunt about things. In the mornings, when he wakes up, he'll put his arms around me and pull me against him. Sometimes, to get my attention if we're in public, he'll lightly put his hand on the small of my back. He loves Gatts and her talons-o-doom. He's absolutely hysterical. And smart. There's this subtle cockiness to him that I really dig. I like how he makes me feel safe. Pretty eyes. Great hair. I *love* his smile, though he'd argue it's crooked. He's kind. Religious. He listens to me talk about things I've talked many times before. He's strong. He's got a great work ethic. He's always looking out for my best interest. And many, many more. I could sit and write for an hour or five about stuff. And this list will likely grow, given time.

Gatts is crunching on her food. I should start packing.