I woke up this morning at 6:30am (entirely too early for me) after getting only four hours sleep (why did I stay up to watch The Hulk?!) to take Jan to the airport. By the time I write this, she should be safely in her hotel room getting ready for her first day of work tomorrow with The British Council. Like last year, Jan will be teaching four weeks of intensive English courses in Hong Kong while I waste away on the sunny (and lonely) Spanish beaches.

Last year went something like this:

Week 1: Bachelor party!! Go wild!
Week 2: Settle down and mellow out. Life is good.
Week 3: Call Hong Kong and ask when Jan’s coming back.
Week 4: Curl up in the corner of my bedroom in the fetal position waiting for Jan.

To make matters worse, Jan will be adding an additional two weeks onto the end of her exodus in which she’ll be maxing and relaxing on some little island in Thailand at a health sanctuary for the clensing of both body and soul. I’m quietly optimistic at the moment, but recognize that I can only postpone the fetal position rocking until maybe the fifth week.