Doing Okay

Best say I'm doing okay. Even postponed an appointment with the psychologist tonight. Didn't know what to say other than "how can you help me not have crippling meltdowns in the future?". Rainchecking that query til Thursday night.

I am coping with my new massive career challenge. I even seem to be making a good impression, believe it or not. Watch this space. Things could go horribly wrong! I hope not.

I'm also attempting quasi-liver cleansing. This just means not having dairy in the house nor drinking alcohol at home. I can hardly expect miracles from such minimal changes, especially before Saturday, when it seems I have a date with BG!!!

Yes, he's still alive. Yes, the romance is still alive. I'm bracing myself for both pashing and humiliating disappointment. I'm tossing around in my head the level of boldness that might be appropriate. He's a shy boy. There may be no option except to throw him on the bed and wear a shagging poncho as a modesty garment. I wonder how I can be wrong about all his seemingly suggestive interaction to date? I'm not an idiot. But I weigh up these moments of sweetness against his extensive absences and think maybe I am just delusionally hopeful. Or maybe things have changed? Maybe there was a time when he was keen, but that's now dissipated, like my stomach muscles.

My guilty indulgence is horoscopes. I scan them regularly for clues to my delusions / instincts.

I'm on track to finish the book club book by the next meeting. A first. We are reading The Tall Man (non-fiction) by Chloe Hooper. Brilliant. I gasped out loud when I read her very simply penned line about Palm Island having been missed in the last Australian census. Un-fucking-believable.