Failure of the Day: The Long Sigh

Classes start at St. Mary's on Monday. That means Chris will work 15 hours a day all next week. He has to work both days this weekend too, so I'm expecting seven straight days of being a bookstore widow. There's one last day of summer, the single remaining Friday when the store closes at 2 PM, and that's tomorrow, so we can spend some good time together, but I'm pretty much not expecting to see him for more than half an hour a day until Sept 6.

And even though it's no fun for me, it's pretty lousy of me to kvetch about because I'm not the one working my tail off for 15 hours a day; I just have to sit around trying to keep myself busy. I tend to hole up in my apartment—as of this writing, I haven't been outside since Monday, and what is it…Thursday now?—and after a while I get a little stir crazy. Telecommuter Psychosis, they call it. On top of that, I'm dieting again, so I don't have anything particularly good to eat as a distraction. Although it just occurred to me that I might do something like the Subway sandwich diet, only substituting tea leaf salad from Burma Super Star. I don't imagine I would have any sort of problem eating that twice a day, every day for the next 9 months or so. (And isn't that a good plan for November: dieting, quitting smoking, and doing NaNo.)

Of course, I do have every single TV channel available in SF, one novel to finish writing and two to finish reading including finally, the new Chuck P, but seriously, I'm going to need to get my ass out of the house next week.