No time for words this evening, as I'm too busy with a few others that came in late today. A new letter, which I may or might not have finished this evening, depending on how long it takes me to discover what in the bloody hell traer en carrilla means, how soon I pour myself a demure tot of Jameson and whether or not the goddesses of solidarity decide to float me a dedicated shoulder rubbing compa [preferably cute, of course] down from the heavens.
A girlfriend of mine [who also labours long hours and relentlessly in this and other fine work] decided long ago that we should each be assigned two footboys. One for the abovementioned chore and the other to be on 24 hour call to fix our damnable computers when they crash at the most inopportune moments. We have, however, decided that the deities in question are, in fact, male, and such role reversal would be quite unseemly, stunt their growth, be a terrible example to set for the children and, most likely, cause the heavens themselves to come crashing down on their almost perfect worlds.
I didn't say any of that.
I told you, no time for [my] words. But do look for the letter on the morrow. It's thoughtful and piquant.