our particular brand of madness

So after all of the waiting and putting together paperwork and sending money and waiting and sending money and paperwork and waiting for paperwork so we could send more money for paperwork...it's here.

You give me a drumroll and I'll give you the news that the much anticipated and paid for green card has finally arrived. The one that lets me stay, that is. Not this one.

And, because I'm very smart, and have honed my anticipation skills beyond those of a monk who just decided that a life of monk-ing was no good and he was going to get his oats, I know that you have questions. The answers are: no, yes, yes, five more years, yes.

Am I a US Citizen, then?
But I can stay in the US for as long as I want now?
Can I leave and come back in if I want?
When will I become a citizen?
Do you think you're going to take a UK holiday in the next couple of years?

Also, since we both now can leave and re-enter the US *at will*, we plan to take advantage of our friendseseses generosity and visit many of them in far flung places all around the world.

See you soon.

If you've not died from the shock of me blogging twice in a little over a week. Seriously.

Well, the phlegm monster has taken up residence in my lungs and is keeping me awake at night, trudging up and down my chest and making me cough and hack.

Being ill is a strange state for blokes.

If we tell anyone about it, we're the stereotypical whiney-man, forever in the shadow of women who, by all accounts, have no trouble making sure the world doesn't destroy itself while they do the laundry and a full time job - and all with leprosy, plague, childbirth, menstrual cramps and creeping death; and not once do they complain about it to us weak men.
On the other hand, if we take a leaf from their book and just get through it because we have to, we fall into the trap of being non-communicative, closed-off, unresponsive and cold. Strikes me that that looks a lot like a double standard.

But let me tell you this...it's not happening to me. Jen is being very nice: attentive enough without being smothering and around enough that I don't feel abandoned. Which is quite the trick.

I don't really want to go to work tomorrow, but the effort of finding a replacement doesn't seem to be something I'm intersted in expending.

Ho hum. That's probably me done till September. Just letting you know.

running commentary available at Play Them Off