So, there's been a flurry of activity.
Failed transit. Bedbugs. Homeless men taking up residence in the hallway. Getting revolted by someone's body. The hard truth that I equate sex with comfort. Owning up to my shortcomings and apologizing to a friend.
And in non-important things — knitting. A long time ago, before I was fired from one of my favorite jobs and my last serious relationship went straight to hell, my girlfriend got me started on knitting. It was a fun activity, meditative and productive (and beat the hell out of pretending to listen to music on the hour-long commute home). Stopped in a supply store on one of the bus routes home last week; picked up a pair of #8 needles and a ball of green yarn. One row of knit, one row of purl. Now that I remember how the stitches go...