Dear Readers, Reports of our demise might have been slightly premature.
On the glass is half empty/half full tip, like clockwork when I take my feelings out of deep freeze, the super fresh thing with the new boy has totally (and messily) imploded. I’ve got no immediate plans besides retiring to my apartment as a mopey cat lady. I guess technically that means so much more free blogging time for you. Too bad all I can manage at the moment is a sniff followed by a “fuck a blog, man!” So, I might be back in full force. I might not. I’m off to sigh dejectedly and look forward to a night of ice cream and cookies and booze. Lotta, lotta booze. Peace out.