Oh a topsy turvy few days. From licking wounds to kicking arse (in my head) it's been dizzying. Wednesday back at work was shaky, then it righted itself gloriously in the evening, somehow the hours evened out. I went to the gym, had a long chat with Bud and by Thursday felt like I was boss again.

And then M called. And I did not pass Go and I did not collect 200. I went straight back to jail.
I don't know how to work up the courage to ask him not to call anymore, though maybe me saying it was making everything so much more difficult will get through to him. I know the passing of time is the only thing that will really help, but at the same time I fear it like a bastard. That self destructive little voice that quavers: what if I never see him again?

I even miss cricket.

So this weekend will be another challenge. maybe a solo trip to the Harvest festival in the hills tomorrow, and brunch with Kym et al on Sunday. It's the quiet pockets I need to fill. The silence after I close the door on a visitor. The confronting whoosh of the morning's first breeze when I step onto the balcony.

On an entirely different topic; one of my favourite blogs is All Men Are Liars, by Sam De Brito who write in the SMH. He strikes me as a real human being. Intelligent, but with warts and all that he bravely faces up to. And today I found out his favourite pollie is my Paul. So there.

Let me not mention Amanda Vanstone on Q&A last night. She may call herself a Republican, but I still wouldn't give her time on telly. Really. I didn't watch long enough to form an opinion, the woman pisses me off.