A quiet night

Right now I'm getting the silent treatment because I requested a TV free night. I also hid the remote control. The bathroom is the only room with real walls in this place which means when Ashley decides to watch her typical Sunday night Real Housewives marathon, I'm watching too. I had never seen or cared to be a regular viewer/judger of these women but anyone who has seen it more than once knows the damn thing sucks you in. Especially when the calculus is fold laundry or watch some self-absorbed insecure whack job go ape shit at their son's christening. Laundry loses every time. Even though I'm stopping mostly to comment how stupid the show is or how stupid the people on it are, I'm still freaking watching it. Which means I'm not writing. I bought a white noise generator for the bedroom, thinking I could just get ready for bed and write then but waiting until bed time doesn't work. I'm near incoherent by then and barely able to keep my eyes open.

The sheets are freshly laundered as are most of my clothes. The dog is fed and in two minutes my food will emerge magnificent from the microwave. I have unclogged the shower for the third time since Ashley moved in and when I get back from walking the dog, I will put away dishes. This is the last week for my boss and I have written him my final fanboy tribute e-mail. I will get sloppy this week I'm sure and miss him acutely all over again since every day will be one day closer to likely never seeing him again. And then I will be over it and holding auditions for my next obsession. I'm too exhausted to give a proper angst filled poring over of yesterday's bad decisions and I'm drawing a complete blank on whatever I'm supposed to worrying about for tomorrow. So it will be a quiet night.