What's got a wild scraggly beard, bloodshot eyes and a foxy accent? That'd be Gareth, after one week of extreme insomnia and dodgy early morning TV documentaries about combine harvesters and obscure Soviet composers.
I suddenly woke up at 2.02 AM today to find him peering at me in the half-dark.
I reached out and patted the furry face and said, "Are you STILL bloody awake?"
To which he replied, "Will you marry me Shauna?"
I said, "Are you SERIOUS!?"
(Which really annoyed me because, if/when the moment ever happened, I had planned to respond with something witty and memorable like, "Depends… will you wear a kilt?". But instead I said, "Are you SERIOUS!?" in a broad, booming Aussie accent, like I was Steve Irwin and I'd just spotted a rare saber-toothed kookaburra or something.)
Gareth said that he was serious.
So I said, "Am I awake?"
He said that I was indeed awake.
So I said, "Yes! Of course!".
Fourteen hours later I still feel too excited and stunned and grinny and teary and lucky and so freakin happy to articulate properly, so for now it's just… WOOHOO!