I just don't know what to do with myself

I walked home from the pub tonight determined not to blog. I talked to Darren and Martyn and explained how much grief Deb was giving me about my blog. If I came home, slumped on the sofa moaning about how hard my day was and watched back to back Simpsons, Holyoaks, News, Eastenders, a film, late news, repeats, then that would be Okay. Spend an hour blogging and we are looking divorce in the face.

The boys talked about how women use communication for community and that watching TV is the same. You're together, watching, with together being the important word. I thought we were watching, and just happened to be in the same room, together.

Deb is jealous of my blog because I spend time communicating with someone other than her,

I came home resolved to less blogging, but checked sitemeter when I got in. Sitemeter led me to hits which led me to comments - 3 of them. My wife, Dx, has an uncanny knack of disabling electrical goods; she is the inspiration behind the EMP of The Matrix.

I read her comments 3 times, or is it comment 3 times? It made me laugh. But it also made me realise that what we talked about in the pub, is what she'd monologued when I was out.

I don't know how to resolve it, other than to tell her she is beautiful and that I love her, and that no, as usual, I won't stop doing something just because she says, but I will try to be a little bit more considerate.