Some things.

1. As ever, I was surprised to see the messages that followed my last post. Not that I didn't know you're a lovely, supportive bunch and all, it's just a constant surprise that you care. Or, to put it less strongly, that you're reading at all.

Then I realised. You guys still out there? You're all guys.

You're just hoping for another cleavage pic.

See, I'm onto you. Men are so shallow.

2. All those busies that ambushed me — one of them is now over, at least for the nonce. And y'know? I can so do my job. I mean, before, I thought so. But now I know it. This pleases me. Also, I can now sleep better.

3. I'm a little bit older. Actually, wait, no I'm not. I'm older on Monday. But I already had the first bubbly, and the first presents,* and I could swear I already had my birthday. Not that anyone would know it to look at me, though, because I have highlights. Ha! Take that, grey hairs! I have a Cunning Disguise!

4. Life is full of bloggables. I scribble them in my mental notebook, and then they fade away, while I carry on busying. It's too bad, really. Maybe one day some of these things will make the great transition from mind to screen. Maybe not. We'll just have to wait and see.

5. The very fabulous Vivaldifan is being flown to London for a day to interview for a lucrative and sexy City job. You hear that? He is being flown. To London. For just one day. Because they want to hire him. I am sick with jealousy. Before you start, no, it's not the notion of jetting around the world per se that I find so exciting; I am aware that there's not much glamour in jet lag. But there is an awful lot of glamour in being so highly sought after that you get jetted in just to talk. I can't imagine I'll ever be in that position. But, never mind my unattractive and petty minded envy; the point is this: Vivaldifan is in the running for a sexy City job, he will be interviewed on what is, coincidentally, my birthday, and you should all be employing your very strongest Jedi mind tricks to carry him on a wave of good energy to glorious success, so that he can move to London permanently and Beloved's worst fears will come true: I will once again be sharing a city with the designated devil on my shoulder and will not have any time for my husband. Also, I will drink too many cocktails and buy too many shoes and turn into Carrie. (I think that's what Beloved is so afraid of. I'm a little vague on the details, but fear there definitely is.)

6. I phoned Beloved this afternoon, just to check in. He's on night shift, so I haven't seen him since this morning, when first I and then he was asleep. I told him about my day.

"We went to the pub at lunch," I told him. "I think I've lost my mystery."**

It's true. It all happened terribly innocently. First I mentioned that some friends of mine seem to be calling off their impending nuptials — for the second time. Some people just shouldn't get engaged. Anyway, so colleague A said how it was easier in the old days, when you didn't have to think about it so hard, you just got married. And while I actually think there is some merit to that argument,*** I did have to point out that "as the daughter of a gay man, I don't think that system was necessarily better".

This got their attention. In fact, it drew applause. Said colleague B: "This is great. You're full of surprises.**** And you keep them all on the slow burner."

Which was all very well, but the thing is, one question led to another, and by the time my glass was drained the assembled company had heard that:
my mother tried to kill herself*****
my dad's first husband ran off to join a monastery — four times
and his second husband failed to introduce him (dad) to his (husband's) elder brother until the day he (dad) started moving into what turned out to be his (brother's) actual house.******

So, as I told Beloved, so much for the slow burn.

"But it's okay," I concluded. "It makes me feel more interesting. Otherwise I'm just a boring married-"
"Freak," Beloved interjects earnestly.
"No, a boring old married knitter."
"An old married knitting freak."

I do think I'm basically boring, though. Even if my family history could provide a whole metric shitload of Days of our Lives script ideas.

_____
* There will have to be pictures, at some point, when it's not so damn cold out.
** Disclaimer: I am about as unmysterious as it is possible for a human being to be. Feminine mystique? I think I was in the bathroom when that was being handed out.
*** Although I really don't see any intrinsic value in marriage, at all.
**** Which leaves me trying to figure out what other surprises I can have possibly delivered since starting there. Maybe just the knitting thing.
***** No, not because she married a gay man.
****** But they're all very happy together.