Inge de Bruin's on-again-off-again boyfriend appears to be going down the decidedly off-again track at the moment. Poor Inge. So she came over to my house last night and we did what any sensible gals would do in such a crisis: we drank wine and ate chocolate and listened to Linda Ronstadt. We didn't solve any of her problems but we had a good time.
And Inge, as always, is such an inspiration. She buys her own flowers because no one else buys them for her. Good for her! Well, you know what day it is today. Schyeah. I've never really been interested in Valentine's Day; but this year feels a little different. As soon as the florist opens, I'm marching straight over and treating myself to a lovely bunch of flowers. And when the florist asks me who they're for I'm going to say proudly, "They're for me."
And then I'm going to turn away really quickly before I see the pity in her eyes.