Hermitage

I am single tonight. I have friends that are going out at 10pm and I'm invited. I just don't think I can start my evening so late. I said I'd call later and maybe meet up with them. I know I won't call. I am the Duchess of Flake.

I think I would rather lounge on my sofa and watch one of the two channels I get whilst quaffing a tazo of vino. Part of me feels a bit lonely for my cherubic devil already. Luckily, I escaped the Irish-Scottish-Welsh genetic predisposition for worrying, but I still have visions of my blonde mother getting in some freaky accident in her ballsy car, Snowflake in tow, every time she careens off with him.

I started 'time-outs' today and that met with a very, very septic response. You would have thought I was skinning live rabbits, or boiling a gross of lobsters in my giant witches cauldron.

I felt like the guardian of the gulag, the Bad Cop, the Dominatrix of the Diaper Set(almost). The screaming has got to stop. It is so primal and full of raw meaning. I finally wore the little warbler down with a low voice and repeatedly placing him back on his pincushion stool for the allotted time. Now he's gone for the night.

Maybe I am getting old because I think I'd rather enjoy the silence than socialize.