Oh, so tired. So very, very tired. Beat.

I think I slept maybe three hours last night. The room was a little too warm (but not hot enough to warrant turning on the A/C, and anyway I prefer to have the window open, you know?), and I was on the wrong side of the bed, and I couldn't get comfy, and I couldn't get my eyes to stay shut, and my mind was racing, and the cat kept walking on my head. Waaaaaaahhhhhh! Okay, so I'll go to sleep super-early tonight and that'll take care of THAT.

One of the problems with having had someone breathing on my neck and kissing me like a champ is that all the rest of my daily life seems terribly, hideously tedious by comparison and I have no patience for it.

Work? Forget it.

Bus ride? Un-freaking-bearable.

Grocery shopping? By no means.

Laundry? Don't start with me.

I can't afford a housekeeper, though, so I guess The Irishman will just have to go.

Yup. Sad but true. He's causing too much trouble here, with his accent and his funny jokes and his kisses and his BREATHING. Not to mention his crisply pressed shirts and his nice strong arms, and

and

and

um, what was I saying?

{ prev & next }