Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome

I'm still trying to take the phone to the bathroom and going to get the mail is like sneaking out of Alcatraz. Seriously, I feel like I'm doing something vaguely naughty by going down to my car. Currently sitting at "too small desk" surrounded by not one, not two but three phones!!!!

Arrrgh! They're attacking me! They are silent and deadly.

That histrionic outburst brought to you by exactly one week of being Metro Limousine-less. I admit, we have our habits.

So far so good. Michael loves his new employment. We're finally completely moved out of the 3rd Street garage and the filing cabinet is slowly being shredded into little cross-cut morsels.

I am learning to live with the gift of three weeks without having to look for work (but if y'all know of anything coming up in January - please let me know.)

I saw a movie alone for the first time in years and years. It was fun for the first hour. After that I started getting anxious like I was supposed to be somewhere or do something productive. I had to convince myself that keeping my ass in the seat was actually what I was "supposed" to be doing. Crazy much?