I am alone most of the time these days. Rob is away for a month, working on a production of his play. Goblin ignores me unless she’s hungry. She divides her days between wrapping herself in the blankets on my bed and watching the squirrel feeder in the backyard as if it were a riveting soap opera.

Matt Damon drops in occasionally, but mostly I’m not in the mood.

I am alone but not lonely; I am decompressing. In the all-encompassing stress of the past few months, everyone wanted someone from me, and no one was happy when they got it. Now I’m not even answering the phone. If there’s an emergency, I don’t want to hear about it. Instead, I’m using my time to develop some healthy habits, such as exercising and eating right, and some unhealthy habits, such as leaving the dirty dishes in the sink and letting the recycling pile up.

It will all balance out in the end.

Update: Today is my dear friend Viki’s birthday. Whether you know her or not, drop her a line. You get bonus points if you refer to her tusks, tentacles, antlers, or stink lines.

Update Two: A word to the wise . . . if you suspect that people think you’re bizarre, and not in a good way, it may behoove you not to compound matters by wandering around looking as if you’ve been struck by lightning. Really.