So Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow today. Six more weeks of winter. Wonderful.
As February is the month of love and I *am* Venus, I've decided to devote the entire month to all of the times Love has bitch-slapped me so hard I bled out my ass.
I include all types of Love in this: Love of Fellow Man, Love of Country, Love of a Good Steak...along with more traditional interpretations and applications of this most maddening state of being.
Which I hate, by the way.
I hate being in love. I hate loving people.
(Yes, I know that "in love" and "love" are the same thing. Sometimes I just like to verbally spar with people. It's so rare that I find a worthy opponent.)
I swore to myself it would never happen again. I swore to myself that I would not add anyone else to the very short list of people that I love. It's just too God-damned painful. Being the goddess that I am, to ease my despair, I have to go out and zap someone/thing.
It gets messy.
I hope this dark winter ends eventually.
I hope to be able to once again enjoy a more stable, durable kind of Love:
Love of Yardwork.
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