Where did the weekend go? Was it the revenge of the mid-week pina coladas? Was it spending too much time at my gf’s reading a book? Was it the way the whole house dreaded interacting with each other until our housemeeting Sunday evening was over and past?

The latter, I’d guess. Others were avoided in the common spaces of the kitchen and living room. For some 72 hours leading to it, we were, each of us, unsure of the roles we would play. And once there, we maneuvered so as to not seem petty, mean, and coarse or worse, next to godliness, as the topic of (the lack of) house cleanling and (the default of) chores was dealt with.

This morning at work I am given the task of writing rejection letters to applicants for my very position. It doesn't give me any big feelings of power, just a sense that it should have been handled more discretely, by having someone else do it.