I don't keep going and going and going

My batteries are running low—literally. Last week the battery on my Mac laptop gave out, leading to a series of frustrating and disillusioning interactions with the people at my local Apple store. Then last night, the water bottle in my yoga bag spilled all over my cell phone and the battery did a little vibrating jig before it kicked the bucket. Apple is sending me a new battery but I have to head over to the Cingular store at lunch to see what I can do about the phone. What’s next—my watch? My car? It’s been an anti-Midas week, where everything I touch breaks. I won’t get into the mishap with Lunchboy’s Gamecube on Saturday, except to say that it was totally accidental.

After three blissful months of local projects that kept him home, Lunchboy is back on the road again for the foreseeable future. We are back to weeks measured by the time between when he leaves on Monday and gets back on Thursday. I get lonely and miss him when he’s away, but he’s the one stuck at Logan for 4 hours after getting up for a 6am flight. He’s the one who won’t get home until 11pm on Thursday. The cats don’t know what’s going on. They keep giving me these looks like, “WTF? Where IS he?”

Last night was the first night in months that I’ve slept alone, and I kept having extremely vivid dreams that there was someone else in the house, or that there was an intruder in the condo upstairs (I’m catsitting for our neighbors while they’re on their honeymoon). Usually I feel very safe in the house but without a working phone I felt vulnerable and powerless. In the dreams, I’d scream “Get out! Get out!” at the intruder, but then realize that I couldn’t call for help. Today, very tired.