I haven’t updated in awhile, because honestly, I’m having a hard time remembering what happened to me after my husband moved out and I came back home after Christmas.

It’s like I’ve blocked it out or something.

I don’t remember driving back to New York, but I know I did, because I was booked on a pretty hectic job that week.

I have no recollection of talking to my tenants, but I know I did, because they’d just moved in.

I seem to remember random mundane tasks:

Taking out the trash.

A warm, floppy hat he gave me last winter that I liked to wear.

My favorite pair of fingerless gloves.

The way my youngest cat had taken to finding the most expensive garment I own (cashmere, silk, etc.) and dragging it around the house in some sort of silent defiant protest whenever I worked late.

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