Today was a good day. First-born came over and we drew pictures. We played a game called 'The Sims 2' where she demonstrated her prowess at family creation. We watched the compulsory Pixar film. The Ex appeared to collect her and commented on the fact that no beer for 9 days and a week of simple salads had had an impressive effect on my shape. I made a hot garlic chicken sandwich and settled down to watch this week's cull on Midsummer Murders (a detective show set in unfeasibly pretty English villages with equally unlikely storylines.)
I was actually mentally preparing a post based around the absurdness of this show when The Phone Call came.
The Ex. In tears. Driving to come and see me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It appears she's realised she's made a terrible mistake, she wants to turn back the clock, can we start again for the sake of First-born if nothing else?
I talked her down, got her to turn the car around and go back to The Boyfriend. I made it clear there was no going back. Whats done is done. She has to make a life with The Boyfriend.
I could really do without this now (although I understand that my condition has triggered this all off.)
This is one post where I really would welcome feedback; how do I deal with this one?
Lucky I've got sleeping pills, otherwise I'd be lying awake worrying about a knock at the door.
