That's how someone found me using Google today. I think it's probably my favorite search string, ever. Sorry to disappoint you with my silly lesbian llama farm.
Things are ok. I guess. I mean, things are totally a fucking wreck, but in a slowly improving kind of way. Kind of like climbing really, really slowly up a very, very steep mountain. He still is very agitated, but it gets better each day as the methadone dose increases.
I spent a few minutes today being very resentful of what a slave he is to his addiction. We haven't been anywhere together in a long time, and it's because he's been chained to dope. Now he's chained to the methadone clinic. Soon, he'll be able to get take-homes, which will improve that situation a bit, but I'm still pissed. I'm pissed we've lost so much time that we should be enjoying together. I've wanted to carry my pretty man somewhere with blue, blue water or blue, blue sky for so long, and we've not gone anywhere. He can't get too far away from his goddamned dope man.