From a fun and fabulous time in France which included such delights as barbecued duck breast and travelling in a convoy of friends to the Ile de Re. Delightful. And now I am back and grumpy. I'm always grumpy when I get back here and spend a good week wondering why I actually live here. Today my husband is driving me nuts with his lack of communication skills and ability to spend upwards of an hour, just 'popping in' to a record store. And the fact that sex four times in two weeks doesn't seem like a lot to me. And that he doesn't talk dirty or in fact really do dirty, well not since we grew up and stopped getting beyond wasted at the weekend and boy was that a long time ago. And that I feel so gender neutral without someone who really obviously lusts after me. And that I'm not sure if I ovulated but shouldn't I be ignoring all that right now - but wait didn't I offer to swap trying to get pregnant for hot sex? I'm not sure if this blog constitutes 'thinking too much about trying to get pregnant' but as I still am thinking, I still am blogging. Two girls who used to work for me are both waiting to deliver just now, or at least I think they are and haven't yet popped. It doesn't help.