He was a detective, you know

2009-05-01T16:33:00.000-07:00

I ran out of things to read today, largely because it was a day where most people at work were just waiting around to find out if they were going to be laid off.

Empty google reader threw up its hands and said "you've read everything, perhaps you should go get some sunshine", but there was none to be had on this rainy day, so it then suggested that I check out Constance (the First). So I did, and a few posts in I thought "I really like the way this person writes". A few posts later I thought "I think I know who this person is." And finally (perhaps I am a little slow), I realized it was one of my favorite bloggers ever, and this was her secret blog. NO WONDER I liked it. Incidentally had I clicked through rather than staying in Reader, her profile pretty much says who she is. But for a moment I felt all clever -- look at me, deriving meaning from context!

Anyway, as I drove home I thought about how I've been wanting somewhere to write where my family likely won't find me. Not that I dislike them; I get along with my family pretty well actually. But at a time when my husband's estranged aunts and cousins are trying to add me as a friend on facebook, I realize I should probably not be venting my more bitter/private thoughts so publicly. At least not without at least trying to be somewhat anonymous.

So here I am. Well, not anymore actually, since I have a cold and am in general pretty blue, and my husband (will have to think of a good psuedonym for him) and our toddler son usually spend Friday nights without me, as hours of Friday night traffic between home and his work make it difficult for them to get home. I am taking advantage of this rare alone time by getting into PJs, making some tea and watching Battlestar Galactica (again), three things I pretty much spent the afternoon daydreaming about (when I wasn't wondering who would have to clean out their desk by five).

Constance the 104th

He was a detective, you know