The Other Sorrow

Posted on December 27, 2002 in Anxiety

Elizabeth Osder be damned. If she wants to condemn those of us who use our blogs as personal letters to the world, let her stand up and declare that works such as Samuel Pepys’s Diary and John Woolman’s Journal should be taken off the shelves of the university libraries before they corrupt impressionable minds. This is my letter to the world. I don’t know how good it is, but it speaks very poorly of Osder to summarilly dismiss it without having read it for a time. This is not an “expert” whose opinion deserves to be trusted.

I’m having trouble, on a deeper level, with Lynn’s being here every day. Like a magnet hidden under a piece of paper, this well-ingrained notion that Lynn’s being home marks the weekend — the time for play — moves my moods in unseen ways and causes me to wake in confusion. I’ve been doing things to my sleep so that I won’t be crowding her off the computer during the day time when she needs it to conduct her job search. I sleep until well into the afternoon and work until the earliest hours of the morning.

I want her back at a job so that I can resume my life as it was. I love her, but I need my routine again.