15 February 2012

The best therapy money can't buy.

Right. Thought I'd try and do a serious post, having barely slept for two nights, in the hope it might help.

Of course, I don't know how to say what I want to say.

Last night, I was worried about John. Which, on the face of it, is stupid. Obviously I don't want physio to hurt him, but I also know he's sensible, he's in the hands of trained professionals - he is a trained professional, and they will, in Sherlock's words, 'make him better'. Maybe not 'good as new', but 'better', which is obviously good. I know he doesn't like to admit it when he hurts - I understand, I don't like admitting when I hurt either. I respect that.

So really, if I think about - which I've had plenty of time to - I'm not worried about John. I'm worried about me. I'm worried I won't do the right thing. And in that, I'm worried I'll annoy him.

The majority of my life has been spent doing the wrong thing. Not really the wrong thing, but the wrong thing in the eyes of those I've surrounded myself with. When I was little, hurting was inconvenient, at best. Mum didn't have time for it. And when I was old enough to help out, then she just wanted the problem gone. So I'd spend any time with my younger siblings half mopping up the cuts and bruises, and half telling them they had to stop crying, they had to be brave. And it doesn't really work like that. As you lot frequently point out, saying you're fine doesn't make it true.

At the same time, I think only a few of you who regularly comment understand how stressful it is to be told you're not fine. If I say I'm fine, when I'm not really, then telling me I'm not doesn't help, it just makes me mentally feel like I've failed, as well as feeling like my body has physically failed. I find that very hard to deal with. So when someone tells me they're fine...I don't want to push it. I want to assume that, left alone, they'll admit they're not if they want to.

However, in a show of total double standards, if John says he's fine, then every fibre of me wants to make sure that's really true, and that there really, really, isn't anything I can do make him better.

But...isn't there always one? Another part of me got very used to trying to help, and, pain and alcohol and drugs doing what they do to the mind, it'd just put me straight in the firing line. Of course, being...I was going to say an idiot, but you lot would shoot me down. Being who I am, that didn't exactly put me off. Just made me wary. Got faster at ducking, that sort of thing. Because if I didn't try to help, well, the outcome wasn't any better. Different excuse, same result.

So now I'm torn. I offer to help, John says he's okay, and he'll tell me if there's anything I can do - and I should just leave it there. Trust him. But instead my brain just gets tied in knots of wanting to do something - anything - and being afraid that if I do, given that he does go a bit quiet, and a bit...not like he usually is - understandably... that I'll suffer the consequences. Which really is stupid, because he's John, and he'd never do anything like that. So I end up just dicking about uselessly and probably annoying him half to death. I don't know. And all he can do about is is promise he really will tell me. Which I totally believe.

But there's still a whole big bit of my brain with lights flashing and warnings going off and I just can't.make.it.shut.up.

So there you go. Me, me, me, on a day that should be all about him. Brilliant.

I think I'm going to regret posting this.


KHolly said...

You know if it were Sherlock faffing about trying to find a way to be helpful without making things worse we'd all tell him to draw John a picture to help him smile. Somehow I doubt that's the right suggestion for you though.

Maybe serenade him with your guitar??? Unless he's got a headache too; then that would be a bad idea.

I suppose slogging through your paperwork would keep your mind occupied without excessive hovering, but it probably won't make you all that happy.

Baking biscuits with Sherlock? Keep you both occupied and also give you a nice treat when you're done. Though maybe after Valentines day you don't need more sweets.

You could always write John some poetry.

Or completely ignore me.

And whether your fine, or "fine" I wouldn't worry too much about using your own blog to help you unravel the knots your brain has worked itself into. I understood that's what these things were for.

Greg Lestrade said...

Hey, what are you saying about my drawing skills?

Thanks - I'm sure after a few weeks it'll all seem...normal? I don't know. I brought paperwork home tonight and spent more time staring at John, as if I might suddenly turn psychic and have all the answers, than actually doing it.

And yes. I suppose it is. Just don't want to seem like a 'hysterical teenage girl' (not my choice of words), which is apparently how I come across sometimes.

John H. D. Watson said...

which is apparently how I come across sometimes

You don't. Not to me.

I knew...or at least had a feeling that this was what was going on in your head. Think you were more nervous over the first appointment than I was. It's okay. Like you said, it'll pass, get to be normal or something. You're not annoying me. It's nice having you here, even if you're just doing paperwork. Comforting.

Greg Lestrade said...


Thanks. And...yeah, I'm glad I wrote this, because I wanted you know, and I couldn't ever have said it. Took me all evening to write this. Kept deleting it.

I think...well, I know when I've been through physio they've always given me exercises to do at home, in the end. So, I suppose if they give you something like that, and I can help, then it might help me feel a bit more useful. Until then...well, prepare for bad drawings, baked goods and being serenaded, or something :)

John H. D. Watson said...

Heh. You can draw me an attempted murder of crows.

Sorry I'm not... I don't know. Better at being looked after, I suppose. There was a long time where things just hurt and there was nothing to be done about it and I suppose I revert back to that now. That sort of... 'why bother trying, nothing will help, just get on with it' thinking. Which isn't always particularly helpful.

Anon Without A Name said...

(I'm tired and out of sorts so apologies in advance if any of this comes across as too... something)

Echoing KHolly's comment that working this stuff out is exactly what your blog is for.

I think getting a bit freaked out when someone you love is in pain is natural (I certainly have no idea what to do when my husband is hurting. My pain makes me grumpy and whiny; his pain fucks with my head in ways I can't even begin to deal with). Add to that your own personal history, and really it's no wonder that you feel as if you're "dicking about uselessly and probably annoying him half to death", regardless of the fact that you're not doing that at all.

I get the impression that you find John's tendency to go quiet at times a little uncomfortable to deal with; it's presses your "must [do something to fix] this" buttons. I'm sure that it's something that the two of you are already working through, one way or another :-)

Oh, also, whoever did use the words "hysterical teenage girl" is an arse and a wronghead who desperately needs to STFU (and yeah, that was the polite version...)

Greg Lestrade said...

You're fine. And hopefully this will help - and if it doesn't, we'll just do anything we can to make it a bit better, day to day. I could learn some proper massage or something, from someone who knows about stuff like that.

And this was supposed to help me sleep, and it's one am again... You think you can sleep? Or are you a bit sore?

John H. D. Watson said...

I'll give it a try if you will. :)

Greg Lestrade said...

I get the impression that you find John's tendency to go quiet at times a little uncomfortable to deal with; it's presses your "must [do something to fix] this" buttons.

I do - and I think dealing with it is really just about rewiring my brain. To me, quiet means anger, and...well, it just doesn't. And I think I'm getting better...but he isn't quiet that often, so it's not a problem that comes up much.

Danger - Yeah, sounds good. You can arrange me as your personal pillow, if you want. Stop me waking up hugging musical instruments when I should be hugging you :)

John H. D. Watson said...

Sounds lovely.

REReader said...

If I say I'm fine, when I'm not really, then telling me I'm not doesn't help, it just makes me mentally feel like I've failed

I. Um. Okay. Since I've been dumping the results of something that you didn't cause and don't even know about on you, and clearly been quite oblivious to the Not Goodness of the results, I think I'd better explain so you can ignore me, or even tell me to stop. (I do have an off button, I just don't always know when to push it.)

The thing is. Well. I think I've mentioned that I live with my parents (and yes, I turned 50 my last birthday, so that's not exactly usual). Well, one of the reasons for it is economic, but even if I won the lottery, I wouldn't be moving out. Because my father has Parkinson's. And it's been getting worse. A lot worse, especially in the past few months and weeks. I am, in fact, watching my father--a very dignified, reticent, intelligent man--die by inches. And lose, by inches, his dignity and privacy and intelligence. And there's not a damn thing I or anyone else can do to fix it.

So I try, a bit frantically, to fix other people, whether or not they need or want it.

I'm sorry.

Anonymous said...

Hmm... perhaps I should shut up, but before I do, I would like to say this: You've got forty years of thinking and acting in a certain way. It's going to take time before your brain stops freaking out with the lights and warnings. It's not fun or easy, but hopefully you'll figure out ways to shut it down... like cuddling John (or hugging musical instruments, or entertaining Sherlock and degus, so on...)

Sweet dreams to all of you!
~A from NW

Bronwyn said...

Hey Greg,
As someone who was trial-by-fired on this a few years ago, I very much feel your pain on the "what the $@!#% do I do now?" front. It was a nasty, grueling, awful few months with three people who were nearly always in pain and it waxed and waned around physio appointments, none of which were on the same day of the week. But the one major lesson I learned is that aside from all the THINGS you can do to help, sometimes the best things you can do are to be present and be yourself.

Trust me, being there and waiting patiently is doing something. I was lucky that my mother's therapist in particular was willing to listen to me bitch about it. He spent most of his time working with the local orthopedist and traumatic injuries, etc. and he gave me some amazing insight. He said that for a lot of people, PT felt like failure even when it was going well because it meant they'd done something wrong - couldn't handle the injury on their own, done something stupid/silly/irresponsible to can injury in the first place, just felt like a failure that they weren't healing fast enough. He told me that being present and making it clear that the regardless of results, you didn't think anything was wrong with them or that the injury made them any less who they were and certainly didn't change how you felt about them was the most important thing involved in aftercare.

I suspect you do that quite well already. And for all I know John may never have thoughts like that. But since it made a world of difference for me to know that my family could be thinking such things, I thought I'd share.

Keep calm and carry on,

Greg Lestrade said...

Cheers A, and Bronwyn. I'm sure we'll muddle through.

RR - that must be a terrible thing for your family to be going through. And please believe me when I say John and I are touched by all of you who read these blogs and care about our well-being. But sometimes when you're hurting it's very important to have the choice about how much of that you share, because you tend to have lost control of a lot of other things right then.

I'm sure no one could ever know how they would react in such a situation as you've found yourself until they have to, and trying to fix other people sounds like a perfectly reasonable thing to try to do. Just a way of you trying to regain control in exactly the same way I do - just with the opposite goal. There's no need to apologise.

My best wishes to you and yours.

Desert Wanderer said...

RR, like I told SH, you know where to find us if you need us.

Lestrade, I'm glad that we haven't driven you away from your blog in annoyance. I think that you and John are good for each other, and happier and more content when you're together. But I don't think that that comes easily, as the work you two put in every day attests. That's really what love is: long-term, continual efforts at making someone else happy with everything you are and want to be. Would we all were so lucky.

I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable at all. I never actually doubt you when you say you're fine. I don't know if you remember writing a dictionary definition of "fine" or "alright" but to me it means "going through something, but still going through." I've only ever meant to tease you, but I can see how it doesn't seem like that. I'm sorry. I'll do better. I hope you get some sleep, that you feel better in the morning Doc, and that everything becomes easier for everyone. <3

REReader said...

L and DW--I won't say it's fine, but it could certainly could be worse. Even when it is worse, it could be worse. Anyway, thank you.

(And L--there is a need to apologize, by my lights. It's not okay to not try to see things from the other person's point of view. I'll try to do better.)

REReader said...

And of course you're quite right about the control thing.

Greg Lestrade said...

Thanks, all of you.

And stop apologising! None of you could psychicly have guessed this is how I feel, so don't worry.

H. Savinien said...

It's not an easy situation for either of you, I imagine. *hugs*

REReader said...

I'm not omniscient?!?!? O_O

Okay, then. :)

REReader said...

(And not for something completely different--I HATE the new captchas, I can't read them at all!)

Anon Without A Name said...

"I think dealing with it is really just about rewiring my brain. To me, quiet means anger, and...well, it just doesn't."

I think that there's times - like now - when yes, there's a element here for you, Lestrade, to take that deep breath and remember that quiet doesn't mean angry. It's like A from NW said, this is 40-odd years of learnt behaviour, so of course it's not always going to be an easy thing for you. Recognising that it's what's happening is probably half the battle :-)

But(and I think I might be about to put both feet in my mouth, and earn one of John's Looks), I suspect that there are some other times when there's an element of John taking a deep breath and remembering that you're *both* dealing with 40-odd years of learnt behaviour, and perhaps he also needs to think about his default reaction to difficult situations, and that a word or two of reassurance to you can make a huge amount of difference. I don't mean times like now, but perhaps those rare occasions where you're both grumping at each a bit and he naturally goes quiet and pulls back, and you try to fix it... Anyway, I'll stop now.

I'm sorry if I've ever been doing that "oh, but you're not really fine, are you?" stuff, or made you uncomfortable (either of you).

I hope you both had a good night's sleep :-)

Small Hobbit said...

It's not easy seeing someone you love who is hurt and not being able to do anything about it. It's worse when it's your own children, because you're panicking and wanting to make them right and at the same time trying to be calm and confident because you don't want them to feel any worse (yes, we've had several trips to A&E). And on top of which you do feel responsible for them.

I know when I say I'm "fine" this means "no I'm not, but I need to sort things out for myself first, so just go away and leave me in peace for the moment". So maybe when we question either of you saying you're fine what we mean is "we appreciate how you're feeling, and just want you to know we're here if/when you want to say more".

L and DW, thank you for your concern, it's appreciated. And L, thank you for the reminder of Victim Support, your words do help (and it's not the first time you've said something that has meant a lot to me). I think it will take a day or two for things to really sink in, at the moment because we've been watching it on television it doesn't seem totally real. And yes, I think the church will do as much as it can, Bishop John is one of life's good guys, so there should be support in that way. And I know I can always turn to you lot to make me smile.

Rider said...

Dunno if it's any help SH but in regards to your kids my father says when you are first name terms with all the surgeons at the Children's Hospital you will have gotten quite blase about it.

(I think he exaggerates, not all, 3 of them at the most!)

I tend to deal with hurting by a bizarre combination of wanting to be alone and hiding and wanting someone to be there anyway. But a silent someone. Soothing hands yes, asking questions or talking, no.

Especially if there's any way at all the hurt could be self inflicted as I then feel it's drawing attention to my clumsiness. As a clumsy unco-ordinated child with a certain physical fearlessness (hence the remark from Dad) I spent a lot of time being angry with myself about not managing something. (it wasn't the hurt, it was the not managing to not get hurt that hurt if you see what I mean)

Greg Lestrade said...

Thanks all of you. You are the best blog readers.

We'll get there. We're both willing to work around each other, to figure out what each other needs. that's half the battle won, right?

As for the 'hysterical teenage girl' comment - remember a while ago I said I'd had some home truths? Well, that was one of them. Beware overhearing gossip in the work toilets - especially when it's about you.

Desert Wanderer said...

I don't know what it is about a work place that makes people feel free to be cruel. Hearing it at work doesn't make it true, but damn if it doesn't sting a bit. Or more than a bit. Just remember to consider the source. The people whose opinion you trust are the only ones whose opinions count, good or bad. As they say, haters gonna hate.

Or: http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l0kewa2Nkm1qzpwi0o1_100.gif
That's true, too. :)

Greg Lestrade said...

Thanks DW.

I suppose it made me feel like...I've never talked about most of these things before, and then when I do, I choose a place that's not remotely private, that anyone can access. And that made me feel pretty stupid - like I'd just brought that upon myself. Like I was damaging my career by admitting these things. So...yeah, that.

Desert Wanderer said...

When I was in basic training, I almost didn't make it through. My commander called me things like "useless," and "the biggest disgrace seen in a 26 year career" and "Worthless" became my name for six weeks. And I thought that I'd brought that on myself, by not being good enough and not trying hard enough and by being weak. That there was something fundamentally wrong with me that no one had said before. So, I started the paperwork to leave.

But you have to talk to approximately 87 people before you leave, and one of them said that leaving would be proving him right and I had two choices:
1. Let him win or
2. Graduate anyway

Obviously, I chose the latter and learned to take everything he said with a fuckload of salt.

My point is this: sometimes it only takes one person to push you off a cliff, but it also only takes one person to break your fall. You've got a veritable army of people who think the world of you, starting with Doc and the boys, whose judgment has been proven to be keen, and ending with your blog readers, who are enthusiastic if nothing else. You and John are Good Ones, no mistake, and never could do anything to deserve that. <3

mazarin said...

F*&% them. (Yeah, I know, easier said than done. If they're so interested that they read your blog, then perhaps they could be consulted on the next poll? "I read because Lestrade and John are a)awesome b)funny c)sexy d)all of the above. Poll taking is mandatory.")

I have nothing to offer except this: I've been where you are (husband has had back surgery, knee surgery, a blown out ankle and 4 broken fingers), sort of been where John's been (benign neglect from parents = take care of yourself, be independent, run silent run deep for things that are physically or mentally painful) So.

It seems so much...not conflict, but perhaps hesitation? - comes from wanting to love too much - and from that comes not wanting to be a bother to your loved one, either. Patience, always, and love, always.

All the best.

Desert Wanderer said...

Truckload. Why does my phone even know that word?!

Greg Lestrade said...

DW - Don't worry, I know my initial reaction wasn't exactly rational. And look at me, still doing the same thing, so it's not like it's put me off. :)

It was just a bit of a shock to hear - although it's always a bit of a shock to me that anyone I know at work reads this.

I've always been pretty good at separating the me at work and the me at home, and it's taking a bit of time to get used to John and Sherlock and Mycroft not minding hearing about it, and wanting to help when it's hard, and, well, just not wanting me to hide all that side of me. And by the same token, work realising that keeping it together on-shift doesn't mean it has no effect on me.

Maz - Patience, always, and love, always.

Yeah, excellent words to live by.

Greg Lestrade said...

Ha! Don't ask me about how phones know what they know!!

Anonymous said...

Rider - thanks. Three and a half weeks in hospital with my 8-year old daughter with her arm in traction was interesting. At one point we even met the doctor who had seen her older brother a few weeks before. Said daughter is now training as a student child nurse, so some good came out of it all.


REReader said...

L, I may be completely off base here, so feel totally free to tell me I have holes in my head...but I think part of you is still waiting to see what will happen when John gets angry, really angry, at you, and it doesn't want to relax until he does. Because sometimes people do get angry, really angry, even at (sometimes especially at) people they love. I know--truly, I do think--that your head is well aware that nothing very terrible will happen, and that most people can get really angry with each other without doing anything really damaging to each other physically, emotionally, or mentally. But I suspect there's a part of you that just doesn't want to believe it until it sees for sure.

And you may never see, because it may never happen. Because not everyone gets that angry--some people can defuse their own anger before it gets that far. Or control it long enough to think things through instead of exploding. Or just never have a reason to get that angry at a particular person. And in that case--and this is probably the most useless bit of advice anyone can give--you're just going to have to wait until that bit of your subconscious gives up and decides it trusts John without direct evidence.

And as for that "hysterical girl" sexist idiot--my grandmother had a saying (which sounds much better in Yiddish), that literally translated means "What is in him he throws away from him." Meaning, obviously, that if people are making sweeping judgments about you, take a good hard look at them.

Not to mention that taking a good hard look at ones own emotions is pretty much the diametrical opposite of hysteria.

Anonymous said...

Greg - Someone called you a hysterical teenage girl. at work? Was there any chance that they had ever been a teenage girl? Because I have, and fairly recently too! I know what hysterical teenage girls think are "omg! life and death!" when their nails get chipped or Mommy and Daddy take away their credit card.

What you went through as a child and teenager, is not anywhere near that kind of shallow hysteria. The fact that two decades down the line, you're working out how to handle your past in writing form, is not anywhere near teenage hysteria.

In sort, people like to judge and most of them don't matter. Now, I suspect Sherlock will want to put degus in your hair while you all cuddle together on the couch and watch QI. =)

~A from NW

REReader said...

Sherlock will want to put degus in your hair while you all cuddle together on the couch and watch QI

If this happens I SOOOO want pictures!

CzechReader said...

People quatsch. No matter what. Still, it stings sometimes...

L, sometimes you are voicing things that are similar to my troubles - the worst punishment for me is having my communication cut and ignored. So silence from the other side is very very bad for me and can drive me totally mad in an attempt to find out what is going on. At the same time my husband feels that he's aggravating me no matter what he says and so he should keep silent to give me the opportunity to calm down... *Sigh* It is fortunate that we don't get into these situations often, but when it happens it takes hours to sort out.

About wanting to do something, anything to help - my husband has epilepsy. I've seen the grand mal seizure (and unfortunately caught him so badly that I had dislocated BOTH his shoulders at once!), I've seen probably thousands of less severe but probably more disturbing so called myoclonic spasms (when he's too tired, too hungry or too cold his eyes kind of roll back and the muscles in his neck turn his head sharply to his right shoulder and this continues for at least 30 minutes) and there is no single thing I can do to help him. Nothing. At. All. If it gets too bad I may apply some spasmolytics - which do frak nothing, except making him sleepy as hell for the next two days.

My mother sometimes asks me how do I cope. To be honest, I don't know myself - I know that epilepsy is not a part of him, it's an unwelcome intruder we might or might not get rid of. It's scary to watch, sometimes it's very hard to watch. I think some people consider me to be very hard on him, because I simply can't afford being all hysterical that he has health troubles - it's nothing new, after all. And sometimes, when I have a bad day myself, I do lose my patience, because the myoclonic spasms cause him to lose focus for a few seconds, so I have to repeat what I said and so on and so on. But the hell, he's my man. In sickness and in health, right? (Not trying to be sad or causing some emotional effect here - it's just how things are. It's all facts.)

So yeah, I get you, L, on these points completely. But hey, when I got together with my man, I was very much damaged and more than half insane: too much drinking, too much failure in life - I was just getting rid of my alcohol habit and stopped dreaming about suicide nightly. If I could figure out how all this works, you sure can. ;-)

Greg Lestrade said...

A - I'm not aware they've ever been a hysterical teenage girl. They were definitely in the bloke's toilet at the yard, anyway.

CR - Thanks.

REReader said...

I'm not aware they've ever been a hysterical teenage girl.

Ooh, now there's a thought.... :)

CR--as DW told me above, you know where to find us if you need us.

Anon Without A Name said...

So, how're the glasses, Lestrade? My new ones arrived today, and foolishly I put a pair on just as I left for work,rather than waiting to wear them for a few hours at a time at home to get used to them. now my eyes are tired and stinging :-p You shouldn't have that problem because a) you're not foolish, and b) you only need them for reading, not all the time like me.

John, Sherlock - how does Lestrade look in his new glasses?

I stand by original comments on your offensively sexist and derogatory loo-gossips.

Greg Lestrade said...

I'm not aware they've ever been a hysterical teenage girl.

Ooh, now there's a thought.... :)

Not entirely sure I follow you.

Nameless - John's told me off twice for not wearing them...that's how they're going. I did try to wear them at work, this afternoon, but I just kept forgetting then, too. I'll get used to them.

And...yeah, I'm sort of more offended by the sexism than the fact it was about me, really. And it's obviously made it hard for me to treat them as I always have. But I'll manage.

REReader said...

I just meant....well, never mind. It sounded better in my head. Ignore, please.

CzechReader said...

RR - thanks. :-) I'm fine. It's just that I get this feeling of wanting to help and not being able to do something about it...

Did you also get this idea of grown-up men dressed as those archetypal movie "evil" high-school beauty queens with the exaggerated girl-talk and manicures and bows in their hair? :-)

L - I am not sure I consider that remark sexist. I know a LOT of hysterical teenage girls and sometimes I think that there is some sort of requirement to behave that way or one wouldn't fit... Aaand I've been one myself and I think it's all those hormones being overly active and that growth and I actually don't think I've been hysterical, nope sir, not me, not my fault :-D

(Although I do have this wonderful tendency to be hysterical now. But I hide in a group of hysterical friends, so people compare me to them and think I'm the calm and balanced one. Ha!)

REReader said...

Something like that, CR, yeah. :)

CzechReader said...

Like "don't judge teenage girls unless you were one"? :-D

Desert Wanderer said...

I was a teenage girl once, not too long ago, and I'd like to say I was never hysterical. Never ever. Didn't happen. :P

Anonymous said...

I assumed REReader was implying the person speaking could in fact be a trans person. But, like Lestrade (I think) I didn't understand the tone of her response.

But I could have been reading both or either parts of that exchange incorrectly, and she's asked us to ignore, so clearly didn't want to expand or clarify.

CzechReader said...

DW - how did you manage this? You have my sincere admiration...

Greg Lestrade said...

Anon - that was pretty much my side, yeah.

CR - I found it sexist because it was clearly meant to be an insult. In my job I get to deal with hysterical people of all ages and sexes - they could have just called me hysterical, without the teenage girl bit.

CzechReader said...

L - true that. I forgot this part of your job, sorry for that. But I guess wanting to be insulted logically is a bit too much - unless we'd meet Spock...

REReader said...

I didn't realize it could read that way until L asked what I meant. I had a scene from a play in my head, but it's very obscure and involved (comes from having worked on far too many theater books) and what little humor there was has already evaporated.

I need a real night's sleep.

Greg Lestrade said...

I guess wanting to be insulted logically is a bit too much

Ha, yeah. (Obviously, I don't actually think I'm hysterical at all). Although I'm reasonably sure Sherlock would just reject an illogical insult and tell the person to go away and think about it...

He's been very cuddly tonight, to both of us. He's brilliant.

Anonymous said...

CR - If Spock was involved in the conversation, I suspect he would be on Greg's side and the other people would be crying for their mommies. =)

Greg - I'm just grinning at the image of all three of you (plus degus) piled on the couch tonight.

~ A from NW

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