Small Sins

Yesterday was Rememberance Day, and I spent it doing homework, baking scones (more so than homework) and in a nod to the day, looking up a fellow colleague's project The Guinea Pig Club, a documentary about WWII veterans horribly burned & in a very exclusive club, one of burgeoning plastic surgery.

I'm also still reconciling my trip to India, my insane jet-lag, my general malaise with writing, busyness with work and loneliness.

It's a lot to think about (sidenote: wandering minds can wander to depression, according to a Globe & Mail article this morning. hm...).

The jet lag? Well it pretty much ended Sunday, when I had been back for 1 week total. I felt bad though, because my dear partner ended up the victim of most of my crazy outbursts, emotional meltdowns and general snarliness.

Case in point: First full day back, I went to work--generally ill advised. Came home, went to a friend's birthday party, came home to sleep. Husband was telling me about how I was snoring the night before (LIES!) and I started laughing. Except I wasn't laughing, I was crying. It was still funny, but for some reason my brain couldn't make the 'laugh' signal work, just the cry one. It was so strange.

The next day we watched a movie (sort-of horror, Left Bank, pretty good) really early, so I could be in bed by 8pm. Husband went to bed with me, read for a bit then went to watch TV in the living room. I got up at some point to use the washroom, and saw him on the couch watching TV. I stood there and just stared at him. He thought I was sleepwalking. I thought he was a ghost.
All I could think about was, if here's here, then WHO is in the bed???

Yeah...nobody.

I was also quite terribly behaved, snapping at the slightest provocation, forgetting sentences/words, being generally rather surly. Ugh.

And now he's gone, and I'm all alone. Sigh. Well, not totally alone. I have work, friends, school committments (I couldn't read that first week, at all!) and my fuzzy bunny, for companionship.

But that strange 'twinning' feeling, of being in two places at once, like part of me was left in India, is slowly leaving, and all I'm left with is a vague idea that I lost a month somewhere in an eternal summer.