It seems as if the one calling "herself" JANH surivived my decidedly poorly planned attack yesterday evening, by countering my spell with a terrifyingly more powerful spell, one that involved (sadly, I have suffered dearly for mistaking the sex of my enemy) a bottle of Omega 3-6-9 oil, some sand, and a large dog.
Needless to say, I will spend the rest of July roaming the silent, lonely and dim lit halls of our local hospital with the elderly and infirmed in a wheelchair, and am now communicating to you all ala Stephen Hawking. It smells of cancerous death here.
Wounded, I slink back to my chambers. JANH is not the woman I thought he was.