it's tuesday

but there's no dinner party rocking the flat.
gillian cooked, and we watched most of season of scrubs.
27 minutes each, without the commercials.

so many things are failing to register.
how the americaninisms on tv are my fate for the next two weeks,
how this report I turned in today probably sets my standard for the next year,
that i'm on a transatlantic flight tomorrow instead of going to work....

i've been on autopilot for so long that the change is scaring me, and I've forgotten how to relax and roll with the punches.