All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
Mood:
guiltily wanting
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There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.
I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.
chez moi
Got home this morning around 8:00 am. The usual 4 and a half hour trip took 7 and a half hours. M. was wide awake when we left but around 4:00am he just was too tired to see the road and I was already asleep. He pulled off onto a roadside turnout and slept for an hour or two.
I think it was just the stress:relief turnover to finally be heading home that made him so tired.
It's nice to be here, though.
On an intensely personal note, my sex life has been non-existent. Of course, it's understandable and I'm not saying a word to M. about it.. but it's my journal and I'm allowing myself to whine.
Selfish, aren't I?
I remember when my grandfather passed away, about 25 years ago. I was playing hide-and-seek with my cousins and while squished in behind the bookcase, I overheard my mom talking with my aunt. She was saying that she was uneasy during sex, wondering if the dead could see the living. That whole "always be with you, watch over you from the other side" type of idea.
In my "not saying a word about it" way, I'm wondering if M. feels that way. Time will tell, I suppose.
For now, I've got the excuse that spending time on the computer is the reason for my eventual carpal tunnel syndrome. Callused fingertips will be more difficult to explain.
Anonymous cyber sex is tempting.
soundtrack:
I think it was just the stress:relief turnover to finally be heading home that made him so tired.
It's nice to be here, though.
On an intensely personal note, my sex life has been non-existent. Of course, it's understandable and I'm not saying a word to M. about it.. but it's my journal and I'm allowing myself to whine.
Selfish, aren't I?
I remember when my grandfather passed away, about 25 years ago. I was playing hide-and-seek with my cousins and while squished in behind the bookcase, I overheard my mom talking with my aunt. She was saying that she was uneasy during sex, wondering if the dead could see the living. That whole "always be with you, watch over you from the other side" type of idea.
In my "not saying a word about it" way, I'm wondering if M. feels that way. Time will tell, I suppose.
For now, I've got the excuse that spending time on the computer is the reason for my eventual carpal tunnel syndrome. Callused fingertips will be more difficult to explain.
Anonymous cyber sex is tempting.
soundtrack:
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