Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Thursday, 18 December 2014

Time is Precious

It is surprisingly difficult to take a picture in
the hallway mirror.
After last night's post was finished and published, Tilly revealed that her pain was getting worse. Even talking about my penis appears cursed. Anyway, long story short, she went to the hospital at 5.50am, leaving me with the children and a day off work. She's been put on an IV to deal with the recurring infection and knock that on the head, so to speak; and then they did a CT scan to check for stones. There were none. They're keeping her in overnight, which likely means that I shall miss another, my final, day of work tomorrow. This sucks on many levels.

Mind you, being full time parent with the kids was actually rather empowering. I managed to get plenty of home stuff done too - like washing and getting rid of mould and the pots - so that the house looks a little tidier than when I started and we all have more clean clothes. If I manage a similar amount tomorrow we should have clean bedding and clean rooms to sleep in. Yay! Also, it has given me chance to talk with my children and the Girlie, in particular, has gained much from knowing that I do things differently to Tilly (she may not like it all, but she has learned that there is more than one way to skin a cat, not literally, at least). So, there have been positives but mainly it's been a bit pants not having her well and home.

This one is the second and it doesn't look
totally awful.
Worryingly, I have used the time tonight, now that the children are asleep, to dress. I put on a dress loaned to Tilly a while back and not required by the original owner any more (and Tilly has said she will never wear it, so I figure it's fair game) and even managed to get my boots on. Given the pain I still feel from the time when I did my ankle in playing football I think that was a significant plus. I have now changed outfit to my red top (new this year) and my denim knee-length skirt (ditto). I actually feel rather relaxed and almost, yes, almost happy with myself. Don't get me wrong, I still miss Tilly, but this does help.

Actually, looking at the images of that ensemble that accompany this post I think it does look rather fetching. I ought to have added the wig after all, I could have looked even better! Mind you, I am glad that I didn't as the Girlie did come downstairs whilst I was in the kitchen and explaining that away would have been impossible. Also, scarier than I would have liked at this point in time. I managed to hide away long enough for her to go back upstairs and give me chance to don jeans and a jumper so I could go and deal with the problem (a ticking clock that was too loud).

Yeah, yeah, of course I tried a curtsy.
I do confess that I am rather guilty about enjoying this time however: it seems somehow wrong to find positives in this sort of situation. I am also reasonably certain that the mould killer I used to spray the rooms this morning may have got into my lungs as I have had a tickley cough since then and that probably isn't a good sign. Plenty to drink ought to help. Tilly announced her hospitalisation on the Book of Faces and so my mother has been in touch to say not a lot and make some strange noises about whether or not it is serious. She's due to visit after the weekend, you see, and so any chance that her visit may be affected is a Bad Thing.

Also, she wanted to know what we were doing regarding my father. I think I've mentioned that we are sooo not looking forward to going down for his birthday on Christmas Eve for a meal at a place that does not do children's food, has nowhere for the children to run around in and does not really want children there (though it will not turn them away) at 7pm (their normal bedtime) and that they don't want us to "rush away from". I have no clue what my father is expecting of us. My mother knows nothing of these shenanigans but is desperate to find out so she can feel hard done to and that my father has more time with me than her as it will feed her martyr complex. No, I am not feeling charitable to either of my parents.

Not much more to say tonight.

Gotta love the slipper hanging off there.
This is an attempted curtsey too.

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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!