I didn’t want to let it go. Did I even have to? Was it mandatory that I shower and wash my face clean of the honey? I suppose it was. The better part of decorum prevailed. I whispered to her that I did not want to let it go. She promised there was more where that came from. It is such a sweet, hungry taste. A whisper of tartness. Pressing my hand to my face between sentences here wishing the taste was still there but it is gone. I cannot lie to myself. But it will return. She is using the L word. I am lovable. Am I loving? Or just looting?

So many things to catch up on in my life outside of this place, this office. My websites have fallen into deshevelment, or rather my web server, not the sites per se, since it is the state of the underlying web server that causes problems for the individual sites. Other matters to catch up on. The woman takes up every drop of my time away from work, it seems. OK, that’s not true. But she is a bit of an addiction. Things are not perfect with us but nothing ever could be perfect. I, for one, eschew perfection.

Today’s ablutions went late. But I made it to work my usual one hour early, shaved and shined. I called out sick yesterday. I simply did not want to be here, and on balance I do not want to be here anymore. I don’t need this anymore in terms of professional development. I took this job to provie I could do it, to prove I could return to a “job” job after 20 years of doing my own thing. I intended this to be a 6-month gig but was not at all dismayed or unsettled when it lasted far longer. But now I think it has lasted too long. I’m getting complacent. The security of this job prevents me from looking for other jobs. Jobs jobs jobs jobs. Time to go do the job assigned to me.