Spring Break

Last week was spring break--development business oblivious to academic schedule, but nevertheless feel that deserve some sort of treat. Try dropping hints to Dave...Did he remember how much fun we had in Mexico last year? Has his grandmother said anything about sending any new influxes of cash? I've heard Vieques is nice this time of year. You want to hear something funny?: I've been having a hard time remembering what it's like to go outside without a coat. Aren't seasons strange?! How quickly we get used to our circumstances! Dave says, Yes, it would be nice to get away, but it's hard for him to plan trips right now because of his job. Can only admit that he is very responsible. In cruel twist of fate, however, Dave is given job with Coors photo shoot that compels him to go away for a week to the Dominican Republic. In light of this, when he leaves, suffer minor mental collapse and give self much needed rest anything resembling discipline: Jenny and I stroll in the morning rather than run. If she wants to sniff at one tree for ten minutes, I let her. If I want a glazed donut from the Donut Pub, I get myself one and also add a cruller to the order. If the next day I develop a hankering for a Two-Tone from City Bakery (half coffee, half very thick dark chocolate milk), I do not analyze or squelch this impulse, I merely tell Oliver I am Stepping Out for Some Air and then walk briskly to 18th Street, where I order a two-tone and also purchase and consume very large chocolate cookie and half a tuna sandwich. In the evening, go to yoga several times, but only because feel like it, and when go home in the evening, do not let self feel guilty when drink several or four large glasses of wine. One night, make tapioca pudding--which don't like, and which haven't had for decades, but am curious about why don't like it. Eat all four servings and decide, licking spoon, that don't care for the texture. Jenny sleeps under the covers every night. Apartment becomes disastrously filthy--though strangely see no sign of mice--and day of Dave's return have panicked regretful cleaning frenzy. Do laundry, mop, dust, vacuum. Feel grimy, pudgy and wan. Dave comes back tanned and thin and claims (kindly, if perhaps not especially truthfully) that he didn't have any fun because he missed me too much.