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Showing posts from August, 2008


It’s day three of Home Alone: The Dave McLean Edition, and all’s going reasonably well. I haven’t bought a single meal so far, the cats’ litter boxes haven’t become ziggurats of poop, and the house doesn’t yet reek of stale sweat and/or Wild Turkey. Yet. I have to admit it’s incredibly weird not having Sarah around. It’s hard to describe, but everything feels ever so slightly off . I’ll be watching TV and I’ll suddenly think, “Holy crap! I forgot to…” but then I realize there’s nothing I’ve forgotten. Or this morning, stepping out of the shower, I had this strange sensation it wasn’t Friday at all, that I’d somehow missed Friday . Again—weird half-second of alarm, then I was fine. I’m not nuts, I’m not obsessing about this constantly; I just have these strange occasional flashes. We’ve been apart before, obviously, and longer than the two-and-a-half days that have passed so far, but usually I’m terribly busy when this happens. I’ve been in Toronto for work, but my days and

The Bachelor

Sarah’s away for the next two weeks. I’ve been on my own for about five hours now, and so far the house hasn’t caught fire, and I’m not drunk beyond reason. I sense I’ve beaten most people’s expectations already. She’s off to Vancouver for a few days to hang with Beth , and from there she’s meeting up with her parents and jumping on a cruise ship due for Alaska. I know, I know: nice life. Hey man, I’d be there too if I wasn’t out of vacation days (full disclosure: I think I have one spare day between now and October 1). So, it’s a sausage-fest at my house, what between me and the cats. I’m not sure what the longest time is I’ve been in this house without Sarah. I suspect it’s no more than three of four days. (And this is exactly the kind of thing I’d get her to confirm for me if she was hear right now.) It’s sort of nice to have the place to myself, and I don’t think I’m a dick for saying that. I think probably ninety percent of people enjoy hanging all by their lonesome on