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. 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 "Story So Far" Page above this and the "New Readers" 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, 23 February 2012

Short status update

I've been set a task of writing a compassionate letter to myself.  It's an interesting task, and was set some time ago (about a week actually), but I've not managed to sit down and think about it until now.  Indeed, I've not had time to sit down and think about anything since I last posted on here due to work.  For the last five days I've been working until close to midnight after putting the kids to bed and that has really been taking it out of me.  I managed to comment on some other blogs, but then ran out of time to update my own.

I rather mean like this.  For some reason I find this sort
of thing endlessly fascinating.
There's been some thought regarding the synopsis I posted.  I originally had the bare bones of the idea way back, like I said, but I'm struggling to start it and get going.  I do know that I want to go beyond the party now and cover the journey home where the protagonist gets treated more like a little sister by the girl that helps him out, and starts believing it to some extent.  Also, due to my other kinks and prediliction for bondage, I suppose I'd like the story to explore that side too.  I also have my novel idea that I may start posting bits of as I attempt to start writing again.  There's something about being creative that helps me remain positive and I haven't really had the chance to do anything of any worth since about this time last year, which is a shame.  Having someone try to sack you from your job for real or imagined incompetence will sap your time though.  I mention the novel as relevant because one of the main characters is a cross-dressing student who is forced to go on the run en femme.  Basically the raid on his flat happens whilst he is indulging his addiction and the rest follows on from that.  Did I mention that it's set in an alternate history?  I won't bore you with details.

Then there's been the carry on at work covering for a colleague who is having an awful time of things.  That means I have to plan the work for that colleague as well as doing my own, I mean, they've got someone in to be a body and do the work but that person can't be expected to be the missing colleague.  That means it's my job to make sure they know what they have to do, when they have to do it, how it is best to do it and then to ensure that they can get on and do it.  On top of that I have my own job to do and the joy of organising about 100 other people into a day of events next Tuesday.

Don't get me wrong, I still love this pair, I just recognise that
they're not practical unless I want to be reminded what I'm
wearing all the time.
Which brings me to the last point of this rather quick status update so I can try writing that letter (how does one write compassionately anyway?) and that is accidental cross-dressing.  I'm back on the sofa, as predicted, as my alarm wakes Tilly and with her having to deal with the children getting up in the night that seems a little unfair.  So, being back on the sofa means that I keep forgetting to get clothes for the morning the night before (not always easy, these last few days I've been thrust straight into looking after our youngest after getting changed).  This, in turn, means that when I found I'd run out of boxer shorts two days ago I didn't have time to rummage in the wardrobe without waking my son and wife.  I opted instead to use my knickers that I still have stored down the back of the sofa (and haven't had chance to wear).  While looking through the bag of socks from the last wash I found a more appropriate pair of knickers (no huge bow, full brief style) of my wife's that she's obviously forgotten about.  I was tempted.  But I also found a pair of boxer shorts.

There were no more this morning.  I succumbed.
Obviously I have a bulge and my waist isn't
so slim, but you get the idea.
They're surprisingly comfortable, much more so than my boxer shorts, and have been really easy to forget that I'm wearing them.  Added to that, the thinner material has actually been better for temperature down there and so I haven't sweated as much.  Combine that with the cut and the fact that my legs haven't itched from the boxers getting caught in the trousers (there's no long legs) and the nice supportive feeling for my stomach and we have arguably the most comfortable underwear I've ever worn.  But there is an enormous amount of guilt because these are not my knickers, they're my wife's.  And that's stealing.  Which is wrong.

So, that's been me.  Now I have to try and write that letter...

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