I am in here.

I'm tired. Not in that exhausted way that feels like clawing toward rejuvenation, but in the way that feels good. Like sore muscles or cheeks that burn from laughing.

Work is so good. Everyday I learn something, and though so much of it is foreign and clouded by technicalities, everyday something new clicks.

School was cancelled all last week for Mike, and it was comforting coming home from a new place and new people to him. He made dinner and cleaned the house, and generally made the week easier. Today was his first day back at school, and my first night home again without him, so it's a bit quiet and a bit blue tonight. My writing group reconvened tonight, and lit a fire under me to get cracking on a story for next week. I'm still flailing a bit in the department of coming-up-with-a-schedule, and I'm secretly yearning for the mandatory break the holidays provide.

That last sentence was me completely ignoring the stress the cost of the holidays require: plane tickets and gifts and celebrations. I guess that's one perk of being tired, the dreamy focus on the good things to come.

I'm currently reading Infinite Jest with a group of friends, most of whom live in Philly. I'm only 30 pages in, but my initial fear of the giant has abated. It's the little things.