A huge project at work that has consumed me since March, that I lived and breathed right up until the wedding and for a good part of my honeymoon, for Christ's sake, will be over in the next couple of days. I've kicked ass on it and should feel proud, though typical of corporate world bullshit, everybody's uber-obsessed with the fact that there was a typo in paragraph 23 of a draft that I circulated. Fuck it. Whatever.

Book is crawling along. A mass email I sent to 700 people has generated 2 responses so far, and I'm thinking about sending it again, paranoid that possibly not everybody got it. I have moments (like this afternoon, when I was lying on my sofa half-napping, half-absorbed in Margaret Drabble) when I desperately wish I hadn't agreed to it, but I think it's going to be OK.

A. and I have been fighting a lot again. I don't feel like going in to that right now, except to say that I need to draw some lines, and that I need to draw them right now.

I finished a first draft of a short story that I've alternately been proud of and mortified at. I'm trying to give it some breathing room before I chop it up and murder it.

J & B moved into their condo — we just came from there. I'm so proud and happy for them. That makes me proud of myself, for not being envious or spiteful.

Today I attended a baby shower for our friend A.S., who, I observed, seems to be a very lonely woman. I really need to make more time to spend with her.

Going to be doing some traveling for work before the end of the year. Seattle and New Orleans. Excited about both. The job seems more and more a place I'd like to stay, a thing I'd like to pursue.

I wonder if this diary will again become a place for me to visit everyday, rather than mechancially recording basic summaries of weekly activities late on Saturday nights after many glasses of good red wine.