Worked with my cold/flu at the restaurant last night, or as I like to call it, Hell's Kitchen. I've worked the past 19 days without a day off, and there is no end in sight.

My big plans tonight? I'm going to clean and sleep. That's it. How sad am I?

I haven't talked to Jeff in a week. He's called twice and I haven't returned his calls. I'm not sure why I'm doing this, but I'm not sure I want to stay in contact. Whatever we are now, and I am reluctant to define it, will only end badly. I suppose I want to get it over with as soon as possible. I have a rough couple of months ahead. Holidays and birthdays and anniversaries, I'm dreading them all.