Got into a bit of a tangle last night with LB.

Wedding reception at Seamus with babies, pints and wedded bliss all woven together in erratic fashion.

All was well until it wasn't, when histrionics ensued; not the least of which demonstrated by myself.

Seems to be the way of it, lately, with things varying between fantastic or abysmal. And, oh sure, there's plenty of the other - in-between moments composing the glue of life - but that hardly seems pertinent or even noteworthy right now.

Love is a form of madness I suppose.

Believe it was the Bard who so opined.

Or some other Joe.

Alack.