This week is supposed to be all about how old I’m getting and how you all should suffer for it. Or how you have avoided the cruelty and suffering because I took the week off from work and have holed up in front of my computer for the week or indulged my rare urge to spend like a Rockefeller and generally not thought about work. Or both. Sometimes I read too.

Then my employee resigned and I gave up two days of vacation in the middle of the week to nag him to document his work and to spend several frustrating hours with our job requisition software (that only an HR rep could love), losing what I typed every twenty minutes because the third-party software could not remember that I actually was logged in.

And J’s employer eliminated his job on Wednesday. Sort of. He still has work with his clients, but not with that employer (but w/o benefits). It’s complicated and too dramatic.

From χmas onward, I look forward to this one week a year when I have no real plans and what nebulous plans I do have are very flexible or forgettable. There is no planned travel. There are minimal appointments to meet. I only have to get up to feed the cat. I can stay up late (provided I still get up to feed the cat) or not. I can do chores or not. I can go somewhere or not. It is usually a week about nothing important. But not this year and I am not relaxed.

Next vacation: September.

At least the weather will be nice for biking this weekend.

Just what the hell is on the ceiling that the cat finds so fascinating?

This is the route of today’s bike ride—probably the last one of my 52^nd year, given the forecast for the next two days. The weather was near perfect, though I do like it when the wind is calm. While averaging 10.7 mph, it seems to me that I spent an inordinate amount of time waiting on stoplights.

My employee gave his two-weeks notice on Wednesday, leaving for a better opportunity. While I wish him luck, I’m a bit pissed about the timing. I’ve had to cut two or three days out of my week-long birthday vacation in order to catch up on all the tasks I’ve assigned to him over the past few years. It will be the first time in over twenty years I have worked any one day this week.

I used to take this week off to goof off and party in a very understated way, that is, with no one else. It was a good week to get a tattoo or piercing before summer. In some years I also took the week off to avoid biting anyone’s head off at work, particularly for the 39^th, 40^th, 45^th, 49^th and 50^th birthdays. Getting older makes me crabby. This year I just wanted to goof off alone and with J for a week. And with the loud and annoying Little Monster.

For some reason, the weather almost always seems to suck this week.

I’ve got an eye appointment on Monday and J is going with me to get new frames on Tuesday. I’m assuming that looking at frames on Monday with my eyes dilated will be less than optimal. I’m seriously considering changing frames for the first time in fifteen years or so. I’ve had three pair sequentially with the same frames. I’m not buying anything that makes me look older, though.

I’m probably picking up an iPad this weekend too. Or I might wait until next weekend and get the 3G model. But everyone says that 3G in NYC is a waste of money; you can never connect, so I might be getting WiFi sooner.

I’m working on a baby blanket for said soon-to-be-ex-employee. I thought I had a month or so to work on it, but now I have only a week. Wunderbar. I have also been swatching for J’s sweater. I’ve settled on a design, but I still need measurements.