Julius stretched himself out, making sure not to touch the wires connecting the bed to the laptop and gave himself a resounding slap across the head. Just to make sure.
Indeed, it was still as he feared, no change whatsoever.
He was still in love.
This was becoming downright annoying, to say the least.
Where were concentration, dedication and discipline whehn you needed them? Absolutely sodding nowhere, that's where.
Here he was - a reasonable foot on the career ladder at last, after many bitter years of slaving over filthy dishes in a Turkish owned pizzaria in the wrong end of town - and what does he go and do?
No, change that to; what happens to him? What comes over him like a meteorite, flattening him until he is no more than a spastic remnant of his former Self?
Precisely! He falls damned well IN LOVE.
And not with someone understandable. Oh no, that would be too easy. Just imagine it; they could get married then and be done with it in a year or so, once the hormones had run their course. Possibly even have children after a while, to allieviate the boredom and have someone else to talk to (and more importantly; argue with).
He rather liked that idea, mundane as it was. Mundane tends to be a good thing when life has a habit of hitting you hard. From behind. When you least expect it.
But no, this was not to be the case. He had to go and sell his heart (including the Bonus and Limited Edition of his entire emotional and mental well being) to a FAIRY.
What in God's name had happened to him?
For surely there is nothing worse than falling in love with a sprightly nymph from the Neatherworld. She would always have a hold on him - at least until she chose otherwise.
He had to face it. Life as he had known it was over.
His therapist had warned him he might haver issues with Change. The man had some sense after all.
Getting up to make some coffee he wondered silently to himself if losing his sense of direction in life was normal at 32, all because of a girl (a girl with PINK HAIR for heaven's sake).
Andromedea, his Siamese furball of a cat was meouwing loudly (and yes, Siamese and furball are not commonly synonymous. In this instance however, one has to make allowances. This cat is in fact merely a cat by virtue of a minor default. More details and explanation will follow in due course).
Julius meanwhile had succeded in entangling himself and his pyjama bottoms with the cat's legs, meaning presumably that it was time for breakfast. Or else that he had to stop whining to himself. At any rate, she provided a welcome distraction from his darker thoughts and so, despite a sigh of capitulation (plus a bit of martyrdom thrown in) he opened a tin of foul smelling something and placed it before her.
Then he stared out of the window at the wet and dismal day ahead of him.
This was not a cheery start to his Birthday. His mother had warned him that 32 was a difficult year and he was beginning to think she might be right. Yet again.