|An electro artiste, but a bloody good image.|
|Close enough to me over the last few nights.|
In the meantime I shall feel more guilty than before about essentially cheating through the medium of the internet and ruminate on the fact that Tilly is beginning to natter aimlessly and without end like her mother does. Is this a function of my mood regarding sexual frustration or is it a cause of the frustration that I am interpreting as being sexual?
Whatever it is, I have worn a pair of knickers today because, again, we have no dry underwear for me. Plenty of socks for a change but no boxers - they're all still wet. The main bedroom is covered in mould, that I shall have to kill this weekend, and some moves have been made to clean the floors. I haven't made a new lesson in about seven weeks now and am slipping into that lazy mode of working that I despise but find it hard to rouse myself from. The Boy was ill last night and so he slept in with me again. Alas, he woke Tilly this morning after I got up to get ready for work, so I was grumped and grizzled at by Tilly 'til I left.
I have lost the point of this post.