I have tweaked my commute for the better. I take a M_ichigan Avenue bus, get off at the first stop, and walk to my office from there. It takes about twenty minutes and a brisk pace, which doesn�t seem like much but which is twenty more minutes of daily exercise than I was getting before. Right now, while the weather is lovely, I like it. I guess I�ll like it even more after I�ve been doing it for a while and feel less out of shape.

I don�t generally watch 0prah, but I saw yesterday�s show and I must say that I feel a hell of a lot better about things today. I think I can content myself with this simple answer for all my many questions, such as: Why did he forget to show up? Why didn�t he call when he said he would? Why doesn�t he seem interested in having sex with me? Why does he fall asleep on me all the time now? Why didn�t he give me a birthday gift or at least send flowers? Why doesn�t he sound happy to hear my voice when I call him? Why doesn�t he have a conversation with me instead of playing little games on his mobile?

Why indeed. Well (if I may paraphrase, because I�m already a bit weary of the catchphrase that is the book�s title), because he doesn�t really dig me. He might want to dig me, but he just doesn�t, and who knows why, and ultimately it doesn�t matter. This is just the sort of thing that happens. Repeatedly. More often than not.

Of course this explanation feels, um, not so GOOD right now, but at least I can stop turning these tiresome questions over and over in my head, examining them from all angles and struggling to formulate theories that would explain what was happening.

I don�t know what to say to him, now that I see.

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