the wait is over

"LOST" begins again tonight and oh-what-a-hiatus-it's-been. (Not sure how many times I need to stress that.) Phew! Glad that's all done and over with! Back to some normalcy, for Christ's sake. Fuck this regression bullshit.

With "normalcy" comes hanging out with the Doc. My emotions have ranged from yes-I-am-interested to no-we-don't-need-to-hang-out to yes-I-could possibly-be-interested to no-we-should-be-friends back to yes-I-am-interested -- and it is there that they currently reside. He's nice. Like, nice-nice. Like, I don't date dudes like that. Like, I am an asshole-magnet.

Or was. Or whatever.

I am running a race on Sunday. The Doc is meeting me there to take me to brunch afterwards. I will hobble, sweaty and spent, toward a Bloody Mary any day, thank you. He's scoring some points for suggesting it.

And so, yes, fittingly, "LOST" begins tonight. When it last aired, I had a regular date with the gym and was more sober than not. I felt pleased most of the time, or when I did not, you know, it was all my doing. (I mean, who are we kidding? I can usually make myself feel horrible enough on my own -- I don't need someone assisting me.)

And so, yes, things are fine. Normal. Even-keeled. I am not waiting for that other shoe to drop on a daily basis and it's hard to believe I endured the nonsense for as long as I did.

Trim the fat.

Watch "LOST".

Run, don't walk.

Be nice to the Doc.

Yes.