It's done.

It's been over a year since the Southern Comfort Incident. I feel silly admitting this, but that shot glass has been sitting in the same cabinet this whole time. That's right. It's been sitting there, sticky and coated with the stench of alcohol for the past year and then some. I have not been able to bring myself to even touch it, let alone clean it!

Well, today, I convinced myself that it was time. Time to clean that damn shot glass and get it out of the back of my mind. As usual, it slipped my mind until I was getting ready to hit the bed. I debated waiting until tomorrow. I went back and forth with myself, all the while knowing that if I put it off any longer, it wouldn't get done.

So I opened the cabinet. It's not there.

Wait, there isn't anywhere it could have gone! I moved some bottles around. Ah, there it is. As soon as I picked it up, He called.

A Miracle!

I know I've said it before, but that N.E.V.E.R. happens!

We talked for a few minutes, I told him how well The Baby went down for bedtime and how she is still pooping in two potties in one session (this particular session occurred at my church.), and how we are going to be having visitors at work for the next two days so I'm going to have to wear my emblem embroidered shirt both days. It was a nice little conversation that ended with him saying he thinks his phone is dying. Not the perfect ending, but not a bad one either!

I hung up the phone and smiled all the way to the kitchen. I opened up a new package of sponges, turned on only the hot water and I washed that little shot glass within an inch of it's life. Inside and out, all round over and over until I was certain that there could not possibly be any more whiskey. I then set that damn shot glass on my nightstand, right next to my bed, so that I will never forget the steps we have taken to get here.

It's amazing how something so small can feel so liberating.

I felt like I was washing away all the bad memories we had accumulated. Like now we could have a fresh start no matter what the outcome of our talk that will happen by Sunday night at the latest. Whether he tells me he's ready and knows what he wants or he has no idea what he wants and doesn't want to complicate things, I am ready.

Our friendship, our relationship, our parental partnership has a brand new, squeaky clean cover.

And it makes me smile.