Monday,
August 16, 1999

My poor baby. Lyndon went to New York today on a business trip, and he was really feeling dreadful -- upset tummy, wind, the works. I'm starting to wonder if there isn't something about our house that makes him sick -- his office is in the basement where the oil tank for the furnace is, and with the occasional oil fumes, whatever residue is still down there from the blue bathroom's flood and just general basement damp, it may be playing hell with his system. I think I'm going to go and swab down his office floor with some bleachy water while he's gone, see if that helps any.

Sigh. I miss him already. I know it's absolutely disgusting, but I do. If we hadn't been attracted to each other, we'd still have been great friends, and I think that's part of the reason why I miss him so much -- I love him, naturally, but I also love just talking to him, or joking around with him, or bouncing ideas off him. It's like having a husband and the ideal buddy/roommate, all rolled into one.

Oh, well. A little over a week, and I'll have him back again. I suppose I can hold out that long. . .