Last year, I gave up Britney Spears for Lent. Not that I know Britney, or anything – it’s just that I was spending far too much time and mental energy on stories about her public meltdown. And it wasn’t just Britney – it was junkotainment in general and a particular social networking site in particular. Gave ‘em up for six weeks, and it dramatically changed my relationships with both.

This year, I took up two Lenten disciplines – one was to give up booze (except on Sundays, which are feast days, and a few other narrow exceptions, like last Thursday, when NovySan took me to the Tiki Ti for the very first time.), and the other was to cut down the amount of time I spend at work, so I have more time for other things, like writing, dancing, starting my law practice, reading a few of the books stacking up in corners of my house… Y’know – the whole rest of my life. The only way to do that is to really, really focus on the work I’m doing, while I’m doing it, so I can get it done, get it out of the way, and move on to other things.

I’m not so good at that. I get bored, and I drift, and next thing I know I’m reading essays on Victorian Baby Farming and getting crap-all done. (I can justify it, though! Of course I can! I’m doing research! Those baby-farmers will will make a literary appearance, someday.)

I did it today, though. Powered through what needed to be powered through, and then realized that I had no idea what to do with myself. Not because I didn’t want to spend some time on the personal parts of my to-do list (and I did that), but because my usual timewasters weren’t exerting their normal appeal.

Maybe I’m getting better at this, after all.

Last night, after Be the Marriage wrapped, NovySan (who’d spent the better part of the afternoon wrestling with the water heater) said, “I need carnitas. Can you drive?”

Of course I could. I’ll never turn down a trip to La Cabana.

Since NovySan was parked behind me, we had to take his car. Like me, NovySan drives a classic Bug, and like mine, it’s got its little quirks. For instance, the only way to adjust the driver’s seat is to slide it forward, then fix it in place with a screwdriver. Well, it doesn’t have to be a screwdriver – but there’s a screwdriver in the map pocket that works very well for the purpose. It can be tricky in the dark, even using your husband’s cell phone as a flashlight (via the excellent TorchButton app), especially when said husband’s sunglasses keep falling out of the map pocket he keeps the screwdriver in. I got it done, though, released the park brake (maybe some other time I’ll talk about the day I didn’t do that, and drove 10 miles with the damned thing on), put the car in reverse, and started to back out of the driveway.

***CRUNCH***

“What was that?” NovySan asked.

“Your fucking sunglasses,” I replied. I could feel the tears starting. “I swear I put them back in the map pocket.”

“I hope they weren’t my favorite ones,” he said.

“I’m sure they were.”

I was right. They were his favorites. But they weren’t the ones from the map pocket. I had gotten those put away. And so now I don’t know if there’d been two sets of sunglasses in the map pocket, and I didn’t notice when the first pair fell out, or if they’d been next to the seat and fallen out when I opened the door. Either way, they were smashed, and I owe him a new pair of shades.

Edit: I should note that NovySan wasn’t that upset about his sunglasses. In fact, I was so upset about the sunglasses (because I do get frustrated with myself when I do stupid shit, like running over my husband’s sunglasses) that he had to go to some trouble to tell me that he wasn’t. “It’s okay,” he said. “The sunglasses don’t matter, because I was just sodomized by the Buddha, and so I’ve reached enlightenment.” That was just the beginning. There was more. By the end of it, I was laughing so hard I almost had to pull over. And dinner was excellent, as well.