If Only I Were A Housecat, Or A Five-Year-Old Child; If Only I Could Go Fishing And Bathe In Rivers, Like I Used To. . .

I've spent the past few days here in my room, scanning the want ads for jobs. So far, it doesn't look too promising – I can either donate my few remaining & withered eggs, or I might offer my services as a person who works on commission assisting people who assist small businesses to become bigger via their corporate interface startup program. Soon, perhaps, Alaska will need a new governor, and my housemate suggested I join this guild for artists' models who pose in the nude.

So much for finding people to date; I've settled for being secretly thrilled every time my hot yoga teacher presses his hands on my lower back or massages my shoulders. The future doesn't look too promising, in other words. But it's not completely hopeless. Though some days are harder than others, I can run three miles without stopping. My thighs are starting to look amazing, my stomach is flatter, and I've discovered that I have a huge lung capacity.

Here's a picture of my gorgeous coworker, Steven, and I. It was taken at my part-time workplace. Things are going to change. I just don't have any idea how they'll change, or what my plan is.




P.S. George Saunders is brilliant!