Tonight: I posted this, and went right to sleep.

Today: I ate more than one meal. I woke up in the morning and did not go back to sleep. I did not take a nap. I did not text my boyfriend all day. I realized that he probably doesn’t mind when I text him all day. I asked for a break when I needed one at work. I picked up my paycheck three days late because it slipped my mind. I was off the computer just after midnight.

Pogonotrip.

So this is going to be an odd post.  I decided, at some point tonight, to write a poem about Rich's epic beard. Instead, I wrote a story inspired by the beard. Then I quickly hammered out a poem that needs a lot of work. But I was amused either way, and here they are.

Tuesday March 9th, 3:01 a.m.

I miss warm-colored walls and flowered curtains, black-and-white mountains, and the spiderwebbed branches of winter trees.  I miss the smell of wood burning in the fireplace, and mom making her Pennsylvania-German version of stroganoff.  I miss walking uphill, and downhill.  I miss hearing the repetitive slapping of the lake on the dock for the first time after the thaw.  I miss the initial sinking shock and then the rising relief of the first cannonball of the season.  I love spring in Boston, but spring is going to happen at home withoutme this year.  I can feel the melting, the growing, the waking up, from here.