Spring breeze, but no U-hauls

1. People of blogland, I know I have been slacking recently. Blame my overbooked agenda as well as the mother of all colds, which have both kept me confined to bed, for altogether very different reasons. But you do know I love you all, don’t you? Right. That’s that out of the way then, just like that time my mother went out clubbing when I was in bed with measles.

2. I believe I left it at the ‘why do women have to be so damn caring’ episode, when I was waiting for an impending visit from my.. my... which leads us smoothly to the subject of..

3. …labels. We had The Conversation, or rather, in our respective breezy, jocular ways, we alluded to having a conversation about The Conversation; the one where two people whose respective trajectories merge/collide long enough to share a bed more than once sit down and discuss the State of Things, present and future. Sometimes.

4. We agreed on the term ‘lovers’ -so much, yet so little- and went our separate ways with a similar, satisfied grin.

5. At this point I’d like to add that, in spite of the mother of all colds, Spring is definitely in my pants. This is possibly why this blog has been suffering a distinct lack of updates recently. Sex is difficult to write about. Good sex is even harder. Overwhelming, all-engulfing sex is nigh impossible. If it turns bad you’ll know all about it.

6. This distinct ‘one day at a time’ stance is suiting me fine. No U-Hauls, no shared felines, no marriage proposals, no monologues starting with ‘your furniture doesn’t match mine’ and ending with ‘storage’. Although, now that she has turned up with strawberries and lurgy-sized tissue boxes, it might well turn into a ‘one week at a time’ thing. Breezy.

7. I wonder what she’s up to today. Maybe last night she had a date with a psycho, maybe she’s been kidnapped, tied up, thrown into the back of a car with no license plate and driven to an abandoned warehouse, and.. and.. oh I’m projecting again. I’ll just send her a text to say: beep me if you need rescuing.