So Max is in Dublin, fighting jet lag and apartment hunting. Oh, and working. Poor kid arrived Monday morning and went straight into the office. If I ever start a business, he's the first guy I'll hire. He gets the job done! He doesn't sit around all day blogging and reading Paris Hilton gossip and, er, um...never mind.
The first few days after Max goes away, I always feel like super woman. "Now that I have all of my free time to myself, I'm going to learn how to cook and organize my iTunes and walk the dogs 10 miles a day and do all of the laundry that was ever created and have dinner with every friend that I haven't seen in weeks and finish watching Lawrence of Arabia and..."
Yeah. Good luck with that.
It's nice having a person around on whom I can blame my lack of stuff-getting-done-ness. What did I do the first 2 days after he left? Watch a bazillion episodes of Walking with Prehistoric Beasts with my Mom. And eat brie. In my defense, I have managed to walk 9 miles with the dogs since Sunday morning--the weather's been ridiculously nice--but I'm sure I ate 9 miles worth of brie last night alone. There's nothing like butter masquerading as cheese.