And all of this micromanagement is one of the reasons why the two or three times I've contemplated coming back were short-circuited in short order (never mind the fact that a dozen surgeries have turned me into a fireplug who couldn't wear proper Tudor under any circumstances). At this point, I prefer savoring memories of what was to trying to machete my way through the morass of what is.

If I want this kind of soul-twisting idiocy, all I have to do is walk out of my front door on any given day of the week, and it's right there in the mundane world. I don't need it as a hobby.

Countess Tam