Pain redux

Back from US.

Woke this morning to the abrupt end of jet-lag and the return of the pain. After a day sitting at home in a fog, was wide awake at 6:30 am, but not exactly bushy-tailed.

I lay there with the covers over my head until The Sob burst out at about seven. No point in just lying there crying so I got up, staggered to the bathroom and stood under the shower, my mind shouting, "STOP", drill sergeant style.

Someone has found that piano and helpfully given it back to me, thinking I had dropped it by accident somewhere.

I am work. That's the only thing I've got that makes me real.

Some time soon, I'll tell you about my theory, that K calls a simple philosophical misunderstanding, that I don't really exist. I try to do things that make me seem real to myself, but I'm afraid it is very unconvincing.

He's going to spend his birthday next week in North Africa. Tunis. (It's not as exotic as it sounds; we're actually quite close. To a North American living in, say, Denver, it would be the equivalent of driving to LA for a weekend.)