I have been reading a lot of lesbian romance fiction and erotica of late. I thought it was because I’m a voyeur and a lurker (guilty,,as charged). Then I realized I like these characters because they do life together, like cook a meal, cuddle when they sleep, share little intimacies, completely unrelated to sex.

What is it about intimacy that so terrifies us?

That isn’t an LGBT thing or a heterosexual thing. We live our lives, hoping not to have our hearts broken. Ex-wife #1 broke my heart and I broke hers about this time forty two years ago. Fast forward another sixteen years and ex-wife #2 and I were dancing our own pas de deux of death.

It is tempting to conclude that I am the party in these dyads who sucks at relationships, but then again “like attracts like” as they say in chemistry. Do we go through life, searching for people who are as equally inept or adroit in relationships as we are?

J has just left for work, with the lunch I packed for her. She will return to the friendly confines of her side of the bed and whatever fiction or television facilitates her escape from the monotony and demands of work and marriage.

Marriage isn’t for dilettantes and dabblers. We have to dip more than just our toes in its water. I write this as someone who has the fear of total commitment thoroughly ingrained in his being.

And now I am sleepy again. Later. I guess I will come back and complete these thoughts.

It is only a Queen size. The sheets need changing. Since my fusion, it is the hardest chore for me to do by myself.

I’m reading a story now whose principal character has sex and then wants to be alone. I think about J and me in the Big Bed; how there is no cuddling, very little physical contact. That’s going to change.

This is almost too painful to think about.

Finally, the pollen, or whatever it is I am allergic to, has worked its magic and I can sleep and otherwise ride out this annoyance. Because now I CAN sleep.

Thank you, allergens.

I went to bed about 830 PM. last night, woke up around 1:00 AM, stayed awake for a couple hours, then back to bed. I awoke again around 7:30, have been awake since, but am now ready for more sleep.

Untying the knot that only automation can tie is never easy. Am I communicating the problem(s) effectively to the Help Desk? It isn’t their fault. They’re trying, I know. This is not a big deal. No children will die if it’s never fixed. The whole thing is like a Church League softball game, where the players become engrossed in a triviality.

I went and bought a bunch of fruit today to replenish the fruit basket. It is key to weight management for me.

I had another attempt with the Company. They are trying. All they have to do is close the new account and reopen the old account.

But I am tired and lonely and sick of all the stuff that separates J and me. She likes her dopey childish The Bachelor. I can’t sit around downstairs hoping intimacy of any kind will return when the wall of TV is up.

Rant over.

Customer Service I just spent the morning on customer service calls. One company, in “updating” my account expunged everything on the old account, do I have no record before 0930 Eastern Time North America.

The other one I a d me on hold with the annoying music for over an hour. When I gave up and decided to leave a message, I was told their office was closed, even though I callefduring “business hours”.

I feel like I have spent the morning in a Green Acres episode, without Eva Gabor or Arnold Ziffel (The pig who watches TV.)

Time for AA.

J and I attended the 530 PM Vigil Mass Saturday Night. She had work today. I had basically a day to do nothing, as if I don’t have enough of those already.

I slept til about 700 AM, awoke, was up for about an hour, then slept some more. I went to AA. There is a small meeting I like on Sunday. When I returned home I fixed slow cooker chili, finally vacuumed the carpet, and cleaned the downstairs bathroom.

I meant to go swimming, got caught up in stuff, and did not. I am putting a lot of mental energy into meal planning and regaining control over what, how much and how often I eat. The more conscious I am about my habits now, the easier it becomes to adhere to them.

I am truly beginning to wonder if sugar is addictive or if sugar overconsumption is merely a difficult habit to break. I get so used to eating sugar. I use it to “reward” myself. I associate with good times, e.g. a birthday cake, Christmas cookies, Easter Candy, Valentine Candy, Hallowe’en Candy. Next thing you know there will be special candy for Columbus Day.

I’m sitting here really tired. J is home, upstairs, with the TV on. What else is new?

I could go up. I should. Maybe I will in a bit.

It is blustery today. I am thinking about flying kites. I first flew kites with my Dad and my Uncle Ed at Chimborazo Park in Church Hill. It was the site of the largest military hospital in the world during the time of the American Civil War.

We bought Hi-Flier kites. They were paper and they were cheap. They were tricky to fly, so we needed people like my Dad and Uncle to show us how to get them airborne. They had patience and experience and we did not.

It never occurred to us that Daddy and Ed had been to Hell and back and that, to them, flying kites with your children was one of the great joys of life. Maybe that’s why Dad flew kites at the beach with his grandchildren thirty years later.

The composer Rossini ( William Tell Overture) was born on 29 February 1792. He was a prolific genius. And I always think of him today.

I watched a documentary on the Romanov Dynasty on Star Media, a Russian media company that posts on You Tube. Important takeaway: We don’tunderstand a damn thing about Russia, nor do we really want to understand them. Their purpose is to be the bogeyman for American political demagogues of any and all persuasions.

Having completed that rant, I can report I am slightly tired. My brother came by to pick a cabinet and a television he might be able to fix.

It took me 63 years to fully understand that I’m not stupid. I spent a lot of time in school terrified over one thing or another, or wondering whether people liked me or not. Those fears followed me into the workplace and my marriages. It’s only been in the last few years, perhaps months, that I have owned up to this nonsense in my head.

Now I should want to be going to Church, but I’m tired. I will probably be tired tomorrow too. But J wants to go this evening. I will go to be with her.

Over, for now.

I have been awake about two hours. The weather is cold again around 32°F (0°C). I have done some indifferent trainspotting, watching #98 NB Silver Meteor #86 Northeast Rail Service pass through and stop in Ashland, respectively, on the way to Washington and New York. I think I may have overreacted in postponing our trip to New York, over COVID-19 concerns but it is still a little early to tell.

Reimplementing the weight loss and maintenance techniques of WW© are coming along far easier than I imagined. It is just a matter of time. Swimming resumes today for me. And some housekeeping will round out my activities.

J is off today. I might just go back to bed.