I did it again. I wrote more rant about Xmas rom-coms (quite amusing, I thought) and inadvertently deleted it. Well, remember the Zen advice: if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him. This has nothing to do with religion; this is advice offered to writers. Don’t fall in love with your own writing. Kill it.

So I did. I didn’t mean to.

Anyway, the whole point of all this meandering is that my brief addiction to the soft porn of Harlequin romances was the safest outlet for my dwindling (as opposed to raging) hormones.

That’s it. Big day ahead. New obstacles in this course of life.