There’s something so decadent about afternoon sex. Sex any time of day or night is great, but there’s something extra luscious about doing it in the middle of the day.
I didn’t think I’d blog today, but here I am. Lately, posting seems to be a bit of a compulsion. Perhaps it’s because I know I have readers. Or, maybe it’s because I’m a compulsive person, and blogging is the flavour of the month.
Yesterday was frosty. Today is windy. We made it to Leicester – and my psych eval – buffeted by the wind. I wouldn’t have made it there if my husband hadn’t gone with me…
I’ll get back to that. I’ve been interrupted by the loud next door neighbours. An argument. Sounds nasty… verbally abusive. Not an argument – a fight. Sad. I don’t know why I share it here. I guess I just want to include you, my readers, in the horror of the moment.
Right…the worst of it appears to be over with now. Leicester. Wind. Evaluation. Was ok. I have to go back next month. Then, if they think psychotherapy would be helpful for me, I’ll be put on the waiting list. If approved for the therapy, it means a trip into Leicester every week. I’m not keen on that (because I’ll have to make it there and back on my own, a potentially devastating experience). But, help I am keen on.
It was good to talk. She said I was very avoidant. Yeah, definitely. But, it was good to have a professional say it. Just as it was good, in a way, to finally be diagnosed with borderline. It’s like…yeah…ok…it’s a thing, not just my own evaluation of myself.
So, yeah. I guess, “to be continued”, that.
When my husband and I got back… well. There’s one thing I never avoid. I’m not certain why anyone would…but, I’m not beating that drum today. Grab pleasure where pleasure is to be had. A good feeling, release. In the midst of all that is wrong, I’m grateful for the things that aren’t. Music. Books. Sex. Not necessarily in that order. All different types of therapy. And, anything that helps me bear this screwy existence, hey…I tend to sing its praises.