Black Friday

Well, OK, it's not black outside, but it's quite grey, and I'm sitting here, playing on Amazon (totally waiting for the $97 TV) and doing laundry. Living the dream, as it were.

I've not been writing not because I don't have a lot to say, but because it's all so deeply personal and would probably make me sound like a nutball were you to read the words that are muddling through my brain. GPOM and I split up, I think I told you, and it's been strange to determine how to live. I spent over four years trying to arrange and rearrange myself to please and be pleasing to someone who had a mistress whom he loved (and loves) more than me. That's an ego burn of the highest degree, especially when his love is an inanimate object. Can't compete with that, yet I try and fail and wonder why I do and become my own armchair psychologist.

I'm sure you know how well that works.

But I'll try again, as I always do, to rebuild and write and think and dream. Until then, I've got a giant bag of Swedish Fish to tide me over.