I'm in the coffee shop, 8:29AM. I've been here since a little before seven. All my papers are graded, even the resubmissions. Glad to get that off my plate, but now, my God, what do I do with my Sunday? I've finished my laundry. I could clean the office and put more music on the Zune. I could write James and Sean a letter and send it through the real mail. Oh, I'm due to burn some discs and send them careening across the country to various and sundry mailboxes. I have to work out and maybe watch the big hockey game. Make a stadium cake with N...that might happen. At least I was up way early so hopefully I'll fall asleep early. Oh, and I should finish cleaning the fish tank. So I guess all that will be a couple hours. I don't do well with free time. I'm breathing.

Ok, I need to use a visual concerning something on my mind last night. Imagine a hand with a very tight grip on my heart. That's all the stress/pressure I put on myself. When I let go, the muscles on the heart expand, and I feel pain. Do you know what I mean? It's like when someone's holding your arm tight, then lets go, it almost hurts more when they're not touching you? I know I'm making progress when I can let go of the pressure and I feel that pain (physical pain, to be clear) in my heart. It's like the stress leaving the muscles releases pain. And the easiest thing to do would be to tighten again because that's comfortable and habitual. But I won't. Promise.

This morning has been ok. N, S, and M were all up early, by 5:30, and Nat curled up on the couch to watch Tom and Jerry. I caught up on scrabble, ate breakfast, took a shower, and headed over here.

So I'm in the coffee shop now. Cloudy again. A group of about fifteen guys just left the hotel across the street, outside my window, they look like they're on some guys' weekend or something. One just took a picture of the harbor. The temps are a little warmer, at least, around thirty, and I'm not wearing a jacket, just my grey pullover. I'm listening to Sparklehorse ("Cow", one of my favorite songs by them, with the utterly nonsensical chorus of "Pretty Girl...Milking a Cow!" over and over again). Have a good day. More later.