This American Life: Infidelity

 At this point, it is fair to say the culprit is mail, right?  We hates it.

Went to Seismic class yesterday.  Eight hours of that, and I was completely wrung out.  I went to bed at eight, glad there was no one to see me.

Today, though.  Today is the first sunny day in a week.  How do you live when you don't have near-constant sunshine?  When you have sunshine, energy and enthusiasm flood into you with the light.  When you don't have sunshine, you have to provide those yourself, which is so draining.  I'm a little bit teasing you about the weather, and a little bit mocking me for being hopelessly spoiled (yes, I expect that my default state should be enthusiasm and energy all the way up to the sunny sky), and kindof also asking how you do it.

Anyway, with no roommates, I notice there are dishes in the sink.  In fact, exactly the same dishes I left there last night.  Back when I had two roommates, the dishes were flirty and mischievous.  Sometimes they'd be there, and sometimes they wouldn't.  Sometimes, there were less of them, but still some.  Two-thirds of the time, they'd wash themselves and put themselves away.  You never knew what to expect from the dishes.  Now, though, the dishes are dull and implacable.  They never rearrange themselves, or wash themselves at all.  They just sit there, unless I wash them.  Which I better stand up and do.

Comments

[Chris Austin]

You are (or were) so lucky.

My dishes only hump like bunnies and multiply!