Fling. And then no fling. And then fling again. And then, once again, no fling.

Just to give you an idea of what the last two weeks have been like.

Surprisingly, I feel ok. Though ready once again to take my vows of poverty, don my wimple of crocheted dog hairs, and settle down into the red (with white polka dots) chakra of self-inflicted celibacy. Actually, I'm not totally ready to do this but I'm going to do it anyway.