It's a little after 2am, and I am in a deep hole, and I don't want to spread it all over you, gentle reader. We watched more of The Doctor tonight, two episodes called Human Nature / The Family of Blood. The choice The Doctor / John Smith had to make underlined why I identify so deeply with the character. I cried along with him. I understood his pain. At its best, the show is not about space ships and time travel and aliens and the like. It's about love and loss, about loneliness. I've never seen a fictional character that mirrors my own experiences so deeply.
Today was uneventful. E and I had a nice breakfast and talked about similar things to what Bug and I talked about yesterday. (So hard, they both have to work, to keep up with how fast I change.) She wanted to work on the awful bill basket, and I wanted motion, so I left early for work and spent an hour at B&N, picking up a book on American's in Paris that has been on my radar for a week or two. Work was its usual slow, depressing Tuesday self, and afterwards I stopped for a few groceries before coming home. We talked about the big DC Comics news over dinner before sitting to watch The Doctor ...
Alright. Enough. Bed.
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