In the process, I've grown a beard, look like a slob, have gone to yoga three or four times a week, done tai chi, watched some television, including rewatching the three BBC "Sherlock" episodes and the first four--soon to be six after today--episodes of Breaking Bad. I've eaten great lashings of restaurant food, including some good Indian last night and some very over-hyped Mexican the night before. We went to Christkindlmarket and then saw A Christmas Carol at the Goodman Theatre on Christmas Eve. And we've seen "Black Swan" and "The King's Speech" and "True Grit." I have played XBOX and watched "Layer Cake," one of my favorite crime films.
I've slept too much, nearly thought myself into a coma, never quite shaken a cold, and--to my point about reading too much--found that the lines between fiction and real life can indeed blur around the edges a bit in the wee hours when in the midst of good, paranoid science fiction. I guess if one is willingly surrendering to a fictional dream with enough regularity and intensity, it only makes sense that the book or movie could either follow you into your own dreams or at least take a while to break out of when resuming mundane duties around the house, like taking out the dogs or doing dishes.
I suppose it has been good to completely attenuate for a while, and I have done some good, including hanging out more with Amy, house searching and keeping my appointments to teach ESL. And the yoga will pay dividends for a long time to come. But my point is that I'm ready for this vacation to be over so I can go back to work.
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