Remains Of The Day For A Technologist

She went to bed alone. Again. Without a word spoken by either of us.

I continued on, playing/working/blogging/surfing the Net. I did a little for my IT job, and a lot for me. Too many regular sites to visit, to keep my technical edge. Too many games to play, with my online buds, whom I never met in person. Too many forums to attend, again with people do not know, except on my laptop screen. Are they even real people?

. . .

She is gone now. I am alone. I am pale, tired, bleary-eyed, and restless. The place is a wreck, with empty food containers and bottles everywhere, strewn among cast off dirty clothes. I cannot remember how long it has been since she left.

This is the period of my life that I call “The Remains Of The Day.” If you’ve seen the movie, you know what I mean. I am like a drug junky, waking up and wondering where the years have gone, and thinking about all the places I haven’t seen, and the things I haven’t done.

All the wasted years. I want to throw my computer out the window and listen to the satisfying sound of its crash against the pavement below. And then I want to go find my life again, to stand in the outdoors, in the bright sunshine, to renew my soul.

But first, I need to check my emails. . .

and my blogs. . .

and play just one more game of Half Life. . . .

. . .