1:21 p.m. - February 16, 2004
Ordering books and DVDs, itching for something chocolatey-gooey, viewing the To Do list with disdain: Invoices, laundry, emails to the dean in Washington, D.C. and Bathsheba, maybe Rob if I feel like it, investigate software requirements for digitizing VHS to DVD.
In other words: When I do not have anything specifically to do, I don't know what to do with myself. I am uncomfortable during these times, cannot enjoy inertia, leisurely swim in melancholy.
A discomfiting thought, discomfiting solely because I protest the reality pro forma: I wish the group therapy was on tonight.