sometimes you feel like a slut. sometimes you don't.

I received a pleasant yet mystifying surprise last week via FedEx: a severance agreement that had been vastly improved since being released from my duties a couple of weeks ago.

I was expecting the two-week severance that is Getalife policy, but the paperwork was offering me almost 14K (before taxes) if I'd shut up, go away, and promise not to raise a stink later. After I had a couple of friends look it over, I decided to accept it and put the dwarf twins behind me forever. (Or under me, if they happen to jaywalk in front of me when I'm driving.)

Being underemployed - I have some Web site stuff to do, so I'm not totally idle - continues to be more of a relief than a stress factor. The improved severance had a lot to do with this. And no dwarves to contend with is sheer bliss.

The only thing I've been wondering about for the last week or so has been an odd disinterest in sex. Even though I'm content to fantasize about mischief when no co-conspirators are available, I've not been doing that as much as usual.

I finally figured it out last weekend: it's the presence of EH*. Even though he's as keen to move on as I am, I still have this subconscious fear that he may wake up one day and want to discuss starting over, or something similar disastrous. So I'm being mega-careful to never give him a reason to think I'm interested in this sort of thing. Right down to putting my libido on the back burner.

It's not worrying me - not yet, anyway. I'm pretty sure that, when I reclaim Chez Melina as mine and mine only, I'll be up to my usual antics.