Hey. I'm a little stressed, right now. The article in the Inquirer came out today, and while it's basically fine (the photo of me is okay, but he didn't end up using very much of what I said -- just a paragraph's worth at the end), I'm a little concerned about reaction. For one thing, I received a call at 8 a.m. from some man who wanted to know 'where to find people interested in this stuff' (meaning erotica). Ick. I referred him to the local bookstore and its Internet section and he went away. Funny -- I've had my address up here for over a year now, and only received one odd phone call -- the newspaper's out for an hour, and someone calls. Says something interesting about what people actually read, I suppose. But I'm still a little freaked, especially with Kevin away. May ask a friend to come crash on the couch tonight.
The office staff at work were a little bewildered but basically supportive (I warned my boss ahead of time). Good thing they're all such nice people.
Can't figure out if I should send a copy to my parents. They know I do write stuff that they don't want to read...not sure what they want to know beyond that. :-) Oh well. My sisters will be amused.
Life otherwise is fine. Spent something like four hours on the phone with Kevin yesterday, so didn't get any of the cleaning done that I had planned to do. Did take out the trash, though. :-)
Wrote a poem last night:
One Week After Departure
________________________
Today's mail is stacked neatly,
three small piles (bills, yours, mine)
on the kitchen table. Those rotting
tupperware containers are gone, and the
egg tray is freshly washed. Last night
I scrubbed the tub on hands and knees,
and tomorrow I will attack the moldy
shower curtain. Perhaps, by Tuesday,
I will have erased every trace of your
presence, and can work quietly at a
(dusted) computer...listening for your
muddy footsteps in the hall.