Squalorism

I stated that I'd have a vacation blog upcoming but this won't be it. Soon enough I guess. Being that I was on my honeymoon I didn't go out of my way to write things down, so it's clearly not a 10-day full log of the proceedings. My intent though was to type up all of what I do have, which is substantial, and then fill in the gaps while typing with more remembrances. So that bit of ambition is slowing me down, naturally.
Also is the fact that I'm having a hard time reassimilating into "world" and "life" and "normal." Returning home Wednesday night, going to work for two days, and then having two weekend days seemed to be close to a perfect path, but here I am nearing the end of Monday workday and I don't have any feel for how to effectively or efficiently or industriously complete a day. Nor do I have the usual vague sense of excitement that I ought to be having to finish up here and head home, because I haven't staked out a half-decent evening flow either.
I can't decide if I just want to hide out in my apartment for a couple weeks or hide out anywhere but my apartment for a couple weeks. Complicating the matter of course is the fact that my status in terms of life-sharing with Sara is both assumed and official now. And so the old coping mechanisms really aren't as relevant. I usually like to put off everything and vegetate, sorta temporarily embrace the squalor, but that's no way to live with someone else. Probably I ought to slap my reflection in the face and tell it to act like a man. And maybe I ought to just step back and stop moping about feeling normal. And be patient. And stop starting sentences with conjunctions. Grammatically poor is no way to feel sorry for yourself, not when you know better.