I'M NOT GOING to dwell.
My very brief lapse recently (of consciousness) is a thing of the past.
I have moved on.
And I am back in form.
My work has been dazzling and left the new clique of sweat hogs in the office choking in my Clive Christian No. 1 Imperial Majesty Perfume scented wake (if you need to look that one up turn the page now, you will never make the A list with me).
Because one thing I have observed — and I am a keen observer — is the more my erstwhile colleagues indulge in these ghastly spandex wrapped habits the duller they become.
Not just socially, it would seem the constant jolting of their small brains in some excessively inflated heads is dumbing them down.
But no, I am not going to dwell.
Several of the newly initiated A listers (it was truly cute, and a little pathetic at the same time, the way some of those bumped up from the casual/occasional category to frontline duties were so grateful) have decided to put together a bit of a do for me.
A pick me up, of sorts.
Not that some of the new 'it' crowd overly pick me up but it is a whole, brave new world out there and I am still adjusting.
And adjusting is my key word right now because the fiancé is also getting just a little ahead of my schedule.
Saying yes is not exactly a carte blanche opportunity.
As gorgeous as he is, he must surely realise he is still on probation — and trying to store a used razor in my bathroom cupboards is his first serious black mark.
Men certainly have their attractions but so much baggage seems to roll in the door right behind them.
I mean he is an adult, fast-tracking his way to 40 something so why does he, and so many of his ilk, not see a problem with a sweaty running shirt flipped onto the bathroom floor — and forgotten.
Not just any bathroom floor. My bathroom floor.
And I certainly have not forgotten.
A sheen of perspiration beading on the golden curls of his chest, his face slightly flushed, has that certain je ne sais quoi — but we won't dwell on that image either.
A hideous creature from the black swamp, unshaved for the weekend, tatty old clothes and sweat literally running from head to toe is hardly the thing you want lurching towards you across the kitchen.
I'm happy to be a bit of an animal at times, aren't we all? Just not with an animal.
So while I am not dwelling, while I am moving on, you can see my quandary and how it is unfairly holding me back.
Yes, I was a little (even surprisingly) quick with the 'yes' and yes, maybe it didn't give me a chance to draw breath and realise like most men, I had hooked something of a Jekyll and Hyde.
That doesn't mean he can't be trained but right now I have to be all about me while I confront the changes which are reshaping my life in ways with which I am not overly enamoured.
I do appreciate your emails of support, even those atrociously abbreviated 'thoughts' on social media, but today I mostly appreciate my mirror.
Not the full length one in my bedroom; no, I find myself staring into my makeup mirror; wondering how one's world can shift so frighteningly in such a short time.
Until that introspection was interrupted by the arrival of Jekyll, all scrubbed clean and dressed to the standards I expect.
We were going out, but I was sitting in my ensuite, he was in the doorway, arms against the door frame above his head.
He looked positively edible.
Now you'll have to excuse me, I am going to do a little dwelling.