October 20th, 2001


Artoo, where are you?

Just bought a huge R2-D2. It's on wheels, a promo cooler made by Pepsi for Episode I. Saw it at a yard sale across the street and couldn't say no. It's a huge R2-D2, after all.

Today has me practically dancing out of bed. It's my day, nobody else's. My battery for other people ran out by the end of Thursday, and last night I skipped out on the bon voyage party for the Purdys (I'll see them again before they leave; otherwise I'd like to think I would have made a point to attend). Game three for the Ms later today (to be watched from the living room, accompanied by beer). "The day is mine!" I hope it's the Mariners' day, too.

I've said it before, or things like it: sometimes I don't think I could be married. It's the "seven days a week for the rest of my life" thing-- the thought of someone, anyone being with me all the time sounds a little like hell to me. I could do maybe four days a week, but they don't offer that package. Suzanne suggested I marry a flight attendant; Nate proposed the idea of a travelling nurse.

But then, when I think about women I may have truly loved, I realize I'm full of shit. I'd do it, in a heartbeat. For me, that could be a measure of that kind of love.
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