I love storms, they ignite something within me, hot-wiring me into existence. I'm determined that The Spawn should not fear them, so make a exerted effort to include them in the excitement, to find the clashes of thunder and the flashes of lightning ripping open the sky exhilarating and empowering and as a result we all run to the windows cheering at every rumble and flash until we're intoxicated by the storm.
Halloween was somewhat of a fail this year seeing as we don't buy into the over commercialised celebrations that lose all significance. I'm always rather tempted to quiz the trick or treaters at the door on Samhain before handing over any sweets well that and the temptation to put onions on sticks and cover them with chocolate. I never once claimed to be nice. The Spawn desperately wanted to go trick or treating, something I've never participated in throughout my entire life due to The Mother always deeming it no more than glorified begging. We did somewhat give in at the last minute yet alas there were no costumes left. We did however carve some small pumpkins.
Half term was....soggy. No transport, awful weather and no money doesn't much make for fun, so naturally Things One and Two took advantage of The Grandparents not being in Spain for once and spent three days and two nights with them. Naturally, with his siblings at home, the charming little Toddler flips his monster switch and turns into a total git. Fun. Between the three males in the house it's often terribly difficult to determine who tantrums the most, or indeed the loudest though I suspect it's The Husband.
Having been frightfully obsessed with finally catching up on The Vampire Diaries I managed to compulsively watch approximately 56 episodes in four days plus six episodes of the spin off series The Originals and I'm now in that familiar land of feeling utterly bereft at having no more to watch pining for the next episode having withdrawal from the direct line to the thighs that occurs every time Klaus calls someone 'Love' as I sit and wonder how other characters manage to refrain from replying 'fuck me' every time he says it. The Vampire Diaries is one of the few shows that have gone from book to screen and actually improved. The books are absolute tosh, they're so utterly dire I had to force myself to read them a few years ago as they became increasingly absurd, contradictory and yet still remained so badly written. I'm not at all suggesting the television series is excellent it's more a guilty pleasure, there's something terribly amusing about counting how many times they break each others necks and stake each other per episode as they run around a small town where everyone is a sex crazed alcoholic. No wonder they're all bloody paranoid.
I suppose I rather ought to log off and liberate Thing Two's makeup stash from the clutches of The Toddler, who keeps sneaking into her room to paint his own nails and apply lip gloss whenever i'm distracted aka peeing.