Joey's on a flight to Belfast right now.

I can't say I like it when he flies without me.  I can't say I like to fly with him either, but at least we'd be together.  I despise airplanes.  I think most of my readers know that, since several people from my life have died on airplanes including two of my college classmates (that is out of fewer than 650), I feel that one of two things is true: either I have nothing to worry about ever again because statistically, everyone I know should be safe from now on; or, I am cursed (likely along with the rest of my class, a la Final Destination), and doomed to a life of airline tragedy.

The first, a little too rational; the second, a little too emotional.

It just doesn't help that he flew through Newark and will again on the way back from the UK. 

Hee, just checked the flight status.  It says "Delayed - Awaiting Customers" - Joey, get out of that bar and onto the plane!

I know he will return to me unharmed (at least mostly; there will be dancing at this wedding), but every single time, I worry. 

Plus I miss him.

The good kind of tired, knowing that I worked hard this week and got a lot done.

The bad kind of tired #1, having had a week of restless nights.

The bad kind of tired #2, having had a colon incident this morning, which is quite a rare occurrence these days.  I still made it to work on time.  (I've always felt, even in my dot com days when no one cared, that getting to work on time is not optional.)

But it is Friday.  Tonight, we plan to cook dinner and then take a nice long walk and see what's going on in the neighborhood.  And then, the lovely sleep.

In another week or two, I think my body will adjust to the new schedule for real.

This whole getting up to commute thing, while not that hard, is certainly different from the rest of the last year.  Working at home meant sleeping 'til nine and checking my email before doing anything fancy like getting dressed.  Now I get up, shower, eat some Cheerios, slap on some business casual and (in four minutes from right now) step out the door and get on the subway.  Arriving at work five minutes before I got up to do that other job.

I don't hate it, except for that very first minute after the alarm clock goes off.

Two minutes.

Tonight we go to the movies with friends.  Tomorrow is Friday.

I wear black almost all the time.  Not plain black - black with patterns!  black paired with another color! - but lots of black regardless.  It started in college when I was doing lots of plays, continued through my stint in professional theatre (you have to wear all black while doing stage management things so you cannot be seen; this includes shoes and often, for me anyway, a hat because my hair is a bright color).  Thereafter, it just stuck.

Plus, I look nice in black, partially because my hair is a bright color.

But it's still summer, and I've found that almost all of my nice work-ish outfits are mostly, or at least half, black.

Too late really, soon it will be too cool to wear summery outfits anyway and everyone will be back to wearing black all the time.  But I might look a little weird for another week or two.

This has always been the most annoying part of any desk job for me.  Waiting for people to return calls.  Now, in most jobs there are ongoing projects, menial tasks, etc. that one can do while waiting for calls, but really I don't have any of those because I am so new and, of course, temporary.  So I just have to wait.  Wait either until someone calls me back, or someone here hands me something else to do.  Usually it is not long before one of these things happens.  This is good.

Right now though, I want this person to call me back.

It's not an enormously important thing that she call me back before I leave.  But wouldn't it be nice?