  The Soap Opera Continues.  Yeah,  well. like,  peace,  quiet,
 calm and sanity is just around the corner,  is it?  That's gunna fucking happen.  Life's bin a bit more 'exciting' than we were expecting.  Things that have happened since Friday:  #
 Helloween.  Spent with my best friend,  Sarah * waves*  and her adorable 2 year old son,  James.
 One had a seasonally purple- and- black coloured toe as a result of bouncing happily down the stairs in a moment of unguarded abandon;  the other had a streaming cold,  a fever,  and wanted to eat sweets and watch Thomas the Tank Engine at 1 a.
m.  ( I'll let you decide which was which.  This was a nice,  restful evening.  Kinda.
 Well,  compared to going out dressed in an assortment of silly( er than we normally wear)  clothes,  getting out of our trees and scaring innocent passers- by into speechless horror,
 anyway.  ( Which is how I usually spend the season)  We didn't make it to Eve's party;  but we did have a nice,  sane,
 calm and refreshingly quiet time,  which left us feeling all warm,  gooey and revitalised.  As it turned out,  we really needed it.  #
 Heff's Parents come to visit.  It was an EXCELLENT incentive FINALLY to sort out the house -  which was fun,  as we left ourselves about 5 hours to do a 2 week job of sorting,  tidying and cleaning.  I am anally retentive about the state of the house at the best of times;
 but,  wanting to a.  make a good impression on the in- laws and b.  needing to distract myself from the terrible feeling of impending doom,  I was in asshole overdrive for this one.
 So all the boxes had to be emptied or stackedf upstairs ( NEATLY,  Heff!  drawers,  cupboards and wardrobes had to be tidied;  all clothes hung up;
 bathroom and kitchen made totally sterile;  curtains and pictures re- hung;  everything scrubbed dusted and polished;  windows,  mirrors and paintwork washed;
 every scrap of carpet hoovered ( don't forget BEHIND the sofa,  Heff!  and every wisp of spiderweb feather- dustered to oblivion.  The cat,
 bemused that his bed ( a cardboard box of books,  with a piece of cardboard packing on top,  conveniently pressed RIGHT up against the radiator in the dinind- room)  had been summarily banished to the back bedroom,
 pretty- much fled for the duration.  I even scrubbed the wardrobe,  for chrissakes.  * hides face in embarassment*
 The result?  Sparkly house.  Maniac and exhausted occupants.  Shortly after the last dust- particle bit the. er.
dust,  at 6 on Saturday,  just as I was getting out of the shower and wondering if I had time to grab a few minutes rest ( before having to pretend to be normal,  sane and not at all like the 36 year- old Whore of Babylon who is corrupting their 21 year old son that they had expected)
 Heff's crumblies duly arrived.  I think I did okay.  I fed 'em. we even had wine ( neatly getting round the corkscrew issue by procuring it in a box with a tap)  (
oooh,  sophistication- a- go- go,  huh?
 and I managed to remember not to swear too much or wriggle out of my underwear half- way through a conversation with his mother.  . at least,  they didn't bundle him into the back of the Range Rover in the middle of the night,  flee the scene screaming abuse out the windows,
 and call in the Vice Squad.  So it appears that I got away with it!  * gloats*  Actually,  I am being a weensy bit over-
dramatic.  ( shock*  Who,  ME .  I was slightly petrified-
into- almost- total- manic- catatonia before they got here;  but,
 despite what the Boi had led me to expect ( he's at that difficult age)  his olds are,  like,  totally cool.  Actually,
 they remiind me quite a bit of my own wrinklies.  Now there's an interesting bijou- nugget- ette of psychological insight,  huh?  Meeting them has helped me understand a lot more about the Boi than before.
 ( Sorry babes!  It was kinda like the last piece of the jigsaw:  now we know that everyone approves of everyone else,  it's like we can breathe a huge sigh of relief and get on with our lives.  Funny,
 isn't it:  I didn't realise how important it all was to us both 'till after it had happened.  By Saturday night,  when we fell -  aching,  hysterical and completely exhausted -
 into the single bed in the spare room,  we were both feeling pretty blissed out about the world in general -  and our little lepton of it in particular.  So that was alright,  then.  (
We will gloss over the 12 hour straight that Heff spent re- acquainting himself with his PC,  and all the games he couldn't play on my crap- machine- from- hell,
 leaving me completely alone and bored shitless,  on Sunday. lest we spoil the warm,  fuzzy glow.  The oddest thing,  tho,
 is that something Heather sent me today reminded me,  viscerally,  of the emotions I felt when I first laid eyes on a picture of Heff. a complete stranger on a perverted little website I lurked voyeristically on at the time,  for lack of anything more entertaining to do.  I just.
 knew . him.  Something about the world- weary expression on his face spoke to me like a piercing shriek.  I thought 'oh my GOD! ' and decided I was going to have him.
 I made a cunning little plan.  I never REALLY expected it to work -  especially when he kept going off with American women ( oooh look:  Heff wants to move to the 'States!  but in the end it did.
 Actually,  it only took 390 days ( exactly)  to pull off.  I'm so fucking clever,  me.
 I dunno what's going on,  tho -  worryingly ( and uniquely)  a scheme actually panning out,  and me getting what I want,
 seems to be turning out pretty bloody well at the moment.  * still keeping a wary eye out for Fate sneaking up behind her with a big iron skillet and an eevyl grin on his/ her/ its face*  For a variety of reasons,
 I am UTTERLY exhausted today:  far too knackered to write about the main reason I am so totally fuct,  in fact.  Suffice it to say,  48 hours ago,  we were looking forward to a period of splendid isolation and boredom (
with a little noisy debauchery thrown in for the entertainment value;  and we had no telly.  Now we have an American lodger;  I get to see if my branecells are still firing;  and we have a telly!  But that's a whole 'nuther bag of ferrets -
 in which I shall rummage around tomorrow.  Bring antiseptic and some plasters,  okay?  Those little fuckers bite like bastards,  you know.
