I didn't get a chance to post last night, because I got into a fight with my wife, and didn't feel like writing. I still think that on the overall issue in contention between us, I'm right. Though the more I think about it the less I'm sure about what the issue was to begin with. The whole thing started when I came home from school and suggestedthat we order in some pizza for dinner, something that had come up that morning before I left, and upon which we had agreed. My wife suggested that we go out for the pizza instead, or alternatively that I go out to pick some up to bring back to the apartment. Now at that point I was pretty tired, having been in school all day, and was actively trying to head off the approaching signs of what looked to be a major headache. So I said that I'd rather order in since I was kinda tired and wanted to relax a bit. I paused then for a few minutes to grab a drink from the fridge, implicitly allowing us both the chance to reconsider our dinner options, and then asked again what we should do. Well apparently my wife took that as me ignoring her initial suggestion, though I didn't ignore it, I just said that I didn't want to do it. And that was pretty much it for the rest of the night, at least on her end. She went into the bedroom to sulk, while I laid down on the couch to rest my eyes for a bit. I napped for about an hour and then went out to meet some friends who I had arranged to meet up with later after school. We ended up going to a local bar, watched Rutgers upset Louisiana, drank a little and played some darts. I went home at around twelve-thirty, thinking that my wife probably went to sleep by then. She hadn't. So we both went to sleep upset.

She was still upset this morning when we woke up, but that later dissipated as the day wore on. We went to go pick up a glass top for the my desk, and dropped off the one defective piece of furniture from the set we bought last weekend. So she's home now putting it together and I'm here trying to get some work done and I still think my writing sucks. Though my typing seems to be getting better.

Maybe I need to start rereading the Elements of Style. I wonder if that's not a bad idea. I actually never read it to begin with, I just winged my way through college. But because most of my classes were writing intensive and I did very well in them, I guess I just thought that I could naturally write well. I seem to have been severly mistaken. There's always time to learn.

Shabbos is early this week, and I'm having conflicting feelings about going home in time for lech benching, and staying here to finish up some more work. On the one hand, I have been getting alot done here today in the time I've been here. I have alot more to do, and know that once I get into a decent groove, its best not to disturb it too much. On the other hand, I'll always have a large residual guilt from abandoning the strictures of my religious upbringing. I dont feel anymore like God's watching and marking my transgressions, like I did for years, in what retrospectively was an incredible cognitive dissonance for anyone past the age of 10, and who was raised in any part of contemporary Western civilization. But there's that guilt that'll always be there. The furtive shame that I can never release knowing that for all the a priori, a posteriori, cosmological and analytical arguments that can be advanced, we can never escape ourselves.

Shabbat Shalom !