Depression confession

The World Series was rained out on Monday night and they could not make it up last night due to rain. With luck, they will play tonight and end the series so Philadelphia fans can go back to ignoring this team for another quarter century. The problem is not that I hate the Phillys, I’m just oversaturated with news. All I have heard for the past two weeks is baseball and the election, baseball, election, baseball, election... It’s quite tedious. Luckily, both will be over within two weeks, no matter what.

I spoke with Amanda at lunch and she says she has only heard from Eugene once an evening since his ship reached the destination. He’s apparently not bored anymore. I am confident we will both hear from him before the return voyage.

My team is analyzing a nasty bug today at the office. It appears to be a mutated ebola strain from Peru with some new features that make it especially difficult to destroy, but I am confident we will tame it within the week.

That would seem to be all I have to update today. Well, I am planning to dine at the Essex tonight. Not that a journal is a place to record every meal — though I suppose it could be for food critics and the insane, two groups of people cut from the same cloth — however, while there I intend to as the manager, Emily, to join me for a drink in the bar. If the conversation is enjoyable, as I have every reason to expect it will be, I shall try to schedule a date for this weekend. Emily has always been pleasant to me, our conversations enjoyable, and I think I am reaching a point where my grief over Cecile is being outweighed by my need to have a personal relationship with someone.

Three years is a long time to mourn alone. I do not want to stop mourning, I just want to stop being alone. I hope Cecile understands.