My boy gets up at 5:11...at least that's when the final snooze alarm goes off. Oh that John, he's a snooze hitter, but I love him (plus it gets me a few smooches in the morning). He leaves around 5:45 after he putters around with the new fangled coffee pot (yay, I love getting gifts just for finding love!!), he smokes a cigarette and makes fun of the newspeople with me...or gives a hearty, "Yoat!" to the hot traffic girl. He gives me a kiss on the lips with his minty/listeriney mouth, he smoothes my hair with one hand, and leaves me with a deep look and a final kiss on the forehead.

He braves traffic.
He gets to work two hours too early...there's no way around it, with the way traffic is here...either go early, or sit in traffic for hours. Nothing is easy, everything is a concession. I imagine him thinking of his "old" (now only one week) life when he could get up, semi hungover at 8:15, get a shower, walk to work and still arrive at the proper 9 am.

He stays late. Traffic at five would keep him trapped in the city forever (once a dream for him), so he stays at work and manipulates numbers, does his picks for his fantasy football team and hopefully, saves a few moments to think of me.

He comes home, his several block commute extended now to 30 odd miles (an arduous 30 miles mind you)...with a smile on his face (how is this possible?) and a huge bunch of Sunflowers in his hands.
For me?
If this is the honeymoon phase, I never want it to end.
This life, this man, this bliss is too wonderful to be fleeting.