From the bottom of my heart, thanks so much for all the kind thoughts and words. They help so much, I can't possibly tell you.

I'm at home this morning because J and I both woke up sick--miserable throwing up and dry heaves. He seems fine now, and has actually eaten breakfast. My stomach is still a mess, but J's dad is coming to pick him up at mid-day because I absolutely have to go to work for at least part of the day. I am dreading it because people are going to ask me about the weekend. I'm hoping that if I look terrible enough, maybe no one will approach me. If I cultivate the hollow-eyed look and carry around a glass of ginger ale, people should be smart enough to keep their distance.

Crap, I'm crying again. I don't think this is a broken heart, but it does sort of hurt in the chest region. And the throat. And behind my eyes, a bit.

Mostly I'm all choked up thinking that I don't want to go back to my pre-Irishman life, where I never had any fun. I liked having fun for a change! I'm not going back to the social club--first, it wasn't fun, and second, I don't want to risk running into him--so I'm cancelling my membership. But I don't know what to do next. I was thinking of something sporty, like biking or tennis or rock-climbing. A walking club? I want to throw myself into something physical. I might set up a structured program for myself at the gym, something that will wear me out to the extent that I just crash at bedtime.

And yoga. Definitely yoga.

And with all the money I'll save on sitters and new clothes, maybe I should think about a vacation.

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