While we're at it, let's go for two in one day! Yahoo user aces_allnight14, a strong studly specimen hailing from Birmingham, Alabama, appears to be so absolutely desperate to get laid that he's trolling for nethoneys…and found (you guessed it!) me.

Tact, honey. It's about tact. Heard of it? It's that non-negotiable part between meeting a woman and clubbing her over the head for sex. Some people refer to it as "small talk." I like to think of it as an occasionally-useful part of the pre-coital process.

Ladies and gentlemen, a warm welcome to yahoo user cchodges, who was looking for a little fun on Valentine's Day and found … me. His profile, I might add, is listed as an "adult" profile. I submit the following transcript as evidence to the contrary:

"You have to eat, kitty."

I've heard that admonition in many different voices. On this night it was the combined voice of Brian-and-Suzan, who were playing the Unified Marital Voice Of Reason.

I don't eat well before I fly. All the aerodynamics lessons in the world aren't likely to change that; my discomfort with flying has nothing to do with the concept of flying and everything to do with the issue of turning over control of my life over to a pilot whose name I don't even know.

Play me a groove
one for my radio
one for my love that came and went
So many stories -
hey man i'm sorry, Joe -
this is just a song to pay the rent
- Angie Aparo, "Spaceship"

Three weeks away made my home a stranger to myself. I walked back in and there was everything, exactly where I left it, my life exactly where I left it, and it took me a day or so to realize that I was what had changed. I was the unfitting piece in the mostly-complete puzzle.

The importance of some things can't be overstated. I've known this day was coming, and said nothing, keeping the date close to my chest in order to have just a little more time to think about it.

When I came back from a Colorado vacation a year ago this week, I told you the superficial stories first. I saved the crucial one for last and dreaded the telling, because I knew how much of a surprise its contents would be for virtually everyone I've ever known:

The last few days before a major trip are always incredibly hectic. The trips to the store are for items more and more random, the to-do list goes from general (make list of spices to take) to painfully specific (pick up the air mattress from Stephen because you forgot it today you nimwit). In the end I just want to whisper,
"are we there yet?"

Nope.