I know I'm a control freak, but this is getting ridiculous.

It's Ghost's immigration interview tomorrow morning. Think "Green Card" with Gerard Depardieu and Andie McDowell. Some government guy sits us in a room (or separately if he feels that way inclined) and asks us a bunch of questions about each other. And I can tell you right now what products he uses in the bathroom. Mine!

What freaks me out right now is the fact that all this, all that we have, rests in the hands of some paper pusher. Someone who doesn't know us from a bar of soap. Who doesn't know the first thing about us and why this is important.

This guy could have had a really off morning and send our plans spinning out the window because some moron cut him off on the freeway.

He holds our future in his hands and he might be pissy because he spilt coffee down his tie or because he didn't get any last night.

We could be one papercut away from appeals, tribunals and deportation.

OK, OK, I'm getting carried away, but I am afraid.

How am I supposed to convey in a sterile interview what Ghost is to me? How his arms are sanctuary and his lips are so soft and how he pins me down to tickle me? How I need to call him when I have news? How I love his sleepy "Bye." as I leave for work in the morning? How he understands my madness and revels in my glee? How we fight and forgive and shout and argue and love? How frustrated he gets with me and I with him because we are so different and so similar? How we drive each other nuts, for good and for bad?

How am I supposed to express the shape and size of his place in my life?

I don't know what to do. But I'm going to ask you to do whatever it is that you do, pray, light candles, chant, whatever, to make sure that this guy gets laid, doesn't spill his coffee, isn't cut off on the freeway and doesn't cut himself on the reams of paperwork he has to deal with.

For Ghost and me.