It is with some satisfaction that I report that I have met a really cool guy from Craigslist. He meets every single one of the criteria I set myself out to find (including that he’s into being less lonely, not more married). Urbane, intelligent, musical, accomplished, well travelled and an excellent communicator. I’ve come up with a blog nickname for him, but in keeping with my “Learn to be more respectful of others, you great sow” vow, I’ll run it by him before I start using it.
And I got enough sleep, and the balance board I bought is doing great things for my back.
I’m swithering about going to Jericho. I still feel like some kind of crud is holding over from the weekend, trying to find a part of me to land on so I’m not sure about the wisdom of yet another late night during the week. In addition I have a project breathing heavily in my ear about its completion, due on Thanksgiving.
This will be the first homily I’ve written that I didn’t read aloud obsessively to Paul (or Dr. Filk) for the week prior to the service, and I find that I’m missing that. You just never know what you’re going to miss when you bail on 25 years of marriage. Many of the things I thought would hurt, haven’t, and vice versa. It floors me, and stuns my mother, that I miss cooking. mOm would probably say, And I miss Root Canal! And I miss Income Tax! And I miss Halitosis! and I miss WWII!