In trouble again (ish) but not very much at all.

Himself thinks I owe you an update.

I think it would be better to leave myself in the glow of being good for a while longer but seeing as I promised this would not be a fictional blog I suppose I should do as I am told.

I don’t think I need to tell you everything. I am going to tell you what matters. I have had a rubbish day at work. I sorted it out and tomorrow will be better but it was utterly horrid for a while and if my writing is a bit rubbish – blame work.

And this blooming font (see below)- that is a pure example of how my day has gone.

Here is what I have learned in the last few days.

1) There are different theories as to the naughty/ good up and down thing. I think I can be good for about forty eight hours. I think to expect more than that shows a naiveté that is unattractive. Fortunately, I am in love with someone wonderfully handsome and he knows just how much to expect of me, so when I hit hour forty nine he is right there waiting for me and shows not a hint of surprise in his eyes.

2) I am changing. When I was growing up I was very bad indeed. I did awful things and I hid them. I got away with everything, every time. I did so by being secretive and perfecting the look of the innocent. No one could ever believe that a girl as well behaved as me ever did anything wrong. I let them believe that and did my own sweet thing.

But now, it is different. Please don’t assume that I am grown up yet. I am not and I am happy not to be grown up. I rushed growing up last time and it did me no favours. Now, it does not occur to me to lie. So the night before last he told me to not do something. It wasn’t complicated and I understood and said that I would not. Within twelve seconds I did it. Then I went and told him what I had done. I did not tell him to make him tell me off but rather because I thought he needed to know what I had found out. It never occurred to me that he would tell me off.

I think I look at myself in surprise now. I can’t work out why I am not lying. I don’t understand why I don’t hide things like that. But I like it. I feel innocent in a way. I feel pure of intention, even when my intentions get me into trouble. I have never been like this before.

3) When he tells me off and (ahem) sorts me out, I feel about four inches tall. I think I could fit in his pocket. I would rather be in his pocket at times like that. I think it would be safer.

4) Even after the most rubbish day, knowing that he is there being all strict and in control I feel better. All I have to handle is work, which I can do. Everything else I can curl up with him and he makes me feel safe.

In 1740 London had a population of 500,000, who drank 22 million gallons of gin per year.

I think that is worth mentioning.

I will be more impish later. Rightnow I feel pensive and loved, which isn’t a bad way to feel.

Would you like another?