Ha, well, I think my therapist felt very NEEDED yesterday. Walking into a therapist's office in full-on weep mode gets you the kind of attention that's required after a breakup, I'll tell you that much.

After therapy I went shopping. This time I steered clear of the lacy bras and got myself some new pajamas--comfy, but sexy in a Cal_vin Klein way, you know. I went home, put on my new PJs, had a glass of wine and some vegetarian pate on crackers, and gabbed on the phone for a couple of hours. I checked my e-mail. I cried at my desk a little because it was Tuesday night and I was going to bed alone. I channel-surfed and checked the Cubs-Atlanta game. When I couldn't hold my eyes open any longer, I went to bed. (But not before I gave serious thought to just sleeping on the sofa instead.)

I'm just awfully glad I got myself through last night. Granted, I checked my voicemail half a dozen times and felt a little stabbing pain each time there was nothing, but I'm still giving myself credit. And today I have powered through an enormous stack of paperwork on my desk, because I feel stronger and able to concentrate again.

Tomorrow night I'm going to see Eddie Izz_ard with a friend. I expect to laugh my ass off and feel even better.

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