Bloggy friends, this is going to hurt me a lot more than it’s going to hurt you.

I have a secret.  Not just any ol’ secret, but a Big Delicious Secret.  I can’t tell you about my Big Delicious Secret,  for, oh, .. another ten weeks.  Yes, another TEN WHOLE WEEKS.    Can you imagine? 😯

Why am I telling you about this now, then, you ask?

Well, it’s because I almost, almost can’t bear it.  And telling you that it exists is the next best thing I could think of to actually spilling the beans. Because the exertion required to hold it in could send me to glory. Because, because.. because I’m bad at keeping this kind of secret!!!!

So… stay tuned*. In just TEN WHOLE MORE WEEKS, I’ll be able to tell you.

*It’s possible, not that I plan to, but it’s just possible, that before then I may need to rave about the outcome of the election.  Can you imagine a person holding back their joy ah, strong emotion, at either result?  Imagine voting out the Woman with the Voice, and being treated to… Tony Abbot?  (Yeah, be still my beating heart, right?)

Hope you’re all well, bloggy friends. The Bluestocking household has been under the weather for a week or so, and living a life of luxury for a week before that.   I actually thought I was leading a fairly privileged life in having daily breakfast with an egg chef at my disposal, and fresh double brie with dried pear, and greek yoghurt with fresh passionfruits and… oh, all sorts of goodies, until Mr Eric Loiselle mentioned his daily lobster habit he developed during his recent trip.  There are clearly degrees of privilege 😛

Catch up with you all soon….  🙂  (you know, if I live through keeping my secret… )

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