Hello, young lovers!

I realise that it’s now no longer St. Valentine’s Day, but I just liked that line for a post title. So there. I hope you all had a jolly day. I got one card, and very nice it was, too. Makes a change from the usual round number of cards. One of the only problems about dating a superhero (apart from the dashing off in the middle of dinner/movies/dishwashing) is that he has to pay considerable attention to his cover job. Alas, that means that he spent tonight in Gotham, and I spent the night in….Not Gotham. Bad? Not so awful. Turns out that Dr House makes housecalls. Fnarr fnarr. The sister got me Season 1 on DVD, to while away the hours after my surgery. I was so busy being cross and congested that I only got the cellophane off tonight. Oh, he’s divine. Very educational. Only watching it to expand my knowledge base, obviously. Yes. Indeed.

In other news, it must be serious with Batman. I say this because he’s back tomorrow night, and in honour of his imminent arrival, I washed the kitchen floor. I hate housework more than anything apart from whole tomatoes. I also hoovered, and bleached the teaspoons. Domestic Goddess, me.

I haven’t posted much of late, for reasons that can be summarised thusly: I felt rotten. I must admit that the black dogs have been nipping at my heels. I think it’s a lack of direction, as for the first time in, oh, nearly twenty years, I don’t have a very definite goal to focus upon. Yes, there’s training, but I can’t decide what subspecialty I like, and so I am drifting a bit. It’s manifested as: grumpiness (imagine!), unusually high stress levels (panic! panic!), and that feeling of wanting to hide in a nice, dark hole. However, the last two weeks have shown a marked improvement, and I’m happy to report that my drivel centre is pulsating with crap to inflict upon all two of the Dear Readers.

Right, enough already. Good night.

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