checking in

This has been a week of checking up on old pals, by email and by virtually spying on those who no longer want to have me in their lives. I admit I feel weird doing that, but just because they've cut me out (or vice versa, in one case), I still care about them. Sometimes I even check up on my college boyfriend, with whom I haven't spoken since, oh, 1995 or so. I just like to know he's still doing well and kicking butt in the land of politics. It's hard for me to stop caring about anyone, even when s/he cuts me to the quick.

In more mundane news, I'm at work for another 2 hours. I'll be at a conference for half of the week and I am not overly enthusiastic about it. I am feeling persnickety, as I told one of my colleagues earlier, which doesn't bode well for long periods of enforced sitting and listening. Perhaps I should not have cut off my hair so I could surreptitiously listen to my ipod. What I really want to be doing is what I did between brunch and work: nap and read on my deck.