So, for one reason or another the topic of my cross-dressing has been well and truly broached with Tilly, she has no way out this time, not without losing face or being insulting (not deliberately set up by me, just the way it's panned out). If she takes a way out I won't blame her, I've said as much. But hopefully we can talk about this.
Actually, I've just twigged the most likely path: she'll fall asleep and then there will be night and morning, the many-hundredth day.
Apparently there was a supah-secret fourth option. That is to come back down from putting the children to bed, say nothing of consequence and, when I raise the conversation, say "There's nothing else to discuss, is there? I'd say we're done on it" and then carry on as normal.
|Yeah, headache inducing. Could have been worse, I|
suppose. "If you haven't got your health, you haven't got
anything" - Count Tyrone Rugen
I would blog about the day but... my heart's not in it. Thus disappointed I shall return to Google+ or go to bed. I don't know any more.
As Inigo Montoya said: "Who are you?"
To which the man in black replied: "No one of any consequence."
"I must know"
"Get used to disappointment."