All the Horrible Girliness

I still don't like that Talking Heads song but

Tonight I'm sitting in the bathroom with Esquire laid out over my lap and my underwear at my knees, and they're this green that Mister Aran calls "Crate & Barrel green" - either you understand or you don't - and out in the kitchen there's a clean wine glass and a bottle of wine waiting for me and I think, Is this my life?

Later (but not much later) we're kissing the way you lick frosting off the tops of cupcakes and I have the same thought.

This morning the boys let me sleep in. After I showered and blew out my hair and dressed I sat in The Bug's rocky chair with my legs over the side. I had gray socks tipped with pink, and my pink Kitsons, and there was an Esquire over on the changing table and Lumines in my PSP, but I just wanted to stare at the place where the wall met the window. I thought of all the things I need to get done. Most I've forgotten. You know The Bug still doesn't have a birth certificate? Bills, changing insurance. And I had one of those mortality kicks. Going to die. Doing nothing right now.

posted by Samus @ 9:39 PM