A Fairy Out of Her Tale - Dear Diary - 32. Scene 32

13th January 1995

Dear Diary of Virtual Farming,

I wasn’t even planning to write today. Almost nothing happened other than me spending the whole day playing Fairy Fun Greenhouse. I can happily report that I’m now level 20, my neighbours have publicly denounced me for mass plague-forwarding, and my newest plant can play the fiddle. Nothing in that game resembles the fairy life I knew, but that only makes it more addictive. I keep trying to guess what the game will come up with next, and I’m usually completely wrong. I guess I understand why Kris plays it so much?

Anyway. That means nothing interesting happened to me for most of the day - or at least for the daylight half of it. I promised myself I would only register things that are actually important and interesting, otherwise this diary will turn into a move by move description of my video game playing and I don’t want that. I want to show this to my grandchildren some day, brag about all the amazing things I did in my youth. I don’t want them to think of me as a video game addict who had nothing going on in her life.

(Let’s ignore the possibility I might not even get as far as have children, let alone grandchildren, ok? Just because I don’t deserve a family it doesn’t mean I can’t dream about having one.)

Then what am I doing writing on you now, you may ask? Didn’t I just say my day was as non-relevant as it gets?

Everything changed with nightfall. After dinner (which I ate in front of the TV in the office because Lóránt didn’t want me going down the stairs yet) my housemates came up to get on with their evening routines. I saw Kris pick up a book from the bookshelf-wall behind Lóránt’s desk (he pretended I wasn’t here), Unn took over the other desk and worked on her homework for 3 hours (how did she even get on the upper floor in a water tank that isn’t supposed to go up the stairs?), and Lydia…

Lydia…

LYDIA!!!

Sorry, but other than writing her name in a whole page and decorate it with flowers and little hearts and stars I don’t know how else to show you what that woman is doing to my feelings.

Sudden, isn’t it? We had barely spoken until five hours ago.

And then we chatted for 5 hours. And played some Fairy Fun Greenhouse. And I think she was flirting with me? I was definitely flirting by the end. You know when you turn everything into innuendo and wiggle your eyebrows and pretend that “grab the joysitck” really just means taking over that physical object that allows you to play a video game?

Mother Deity, I suck at flirting! No wonder I can’t tell if Lydia really was making a move on me.

Grab the joystick… I sound like a 10 year-old! That’s the kind of thing my brother would say!

I need some time alone to think through what just happened. Think really hard about what just happened. Eyebrow wiggle and all.

Aaaaaaand that’s an entry I’ll never show my grandchildren.

I’ll show myself out before I destroy my reputation even further.

Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I’m an easily-amused author who had the time of his life writing the second half of that scene. I could probably make a living out of horrible sexual metaphors.
Was Lydia really flirting? Has Nessa found the love of her life after making absolutely no effort to find one at all? Are they going to have fifteen children over the next 20 years so that Nessa can have the clan of grandchildren she always dreamed of?
Plot twist: you’re one of those grandchildren! You’re reading the diary your grandma didn’t quite want to show you just yet. Then again, it’s her fault for keeping it at such an easy-to-find place like behind the wardrobe’s false back wall underneath a pile of gold bars and chained books. Anyone could’ve stumbled upon it, right?
Right? 
If you’re the kind of grandchild who would rather not get caught red-handed by grandma Nessa, you can buy yourself some hiding powder by becoming my patron (and look at another week’s worth of your grandma’s secrets). The link is in my profile. Go have fun.
Otherwise, your grandma will be back on Friday.