a-i-m-e-e

I’ve been so tired lately. I don’t know why, really? Depression? Angst? Stress? All of the above? And I remember now why Friday night was alright--I slept it away--got home at 6, was asleep by 6:20, my dad woke me up around 9 because he said I needed to eat something and I was back in bed by 10:20--I didn’t resurface until around 10 on Saturday morning. It can’t possibly be bad if you’re unconscious, right?

Anyhow, when I got home from work this evening, I was beat. I dragged my tired ass up the stairs and stood there in the doorway of my room staring longingly at my bed--the house was quiet (Cameron is in Okeechobee with my mom for a couple days), I was tired and I couldn’t think of one thing that I absolutely had to do. And a nap sure sounded heavenly. So I crawled into bed with my lover, curled myself into him (or rather, around him) and indulged in what was a splendid two hours of nothingness. Heaven indeed.

Have I never mentioned my lover? No? For shame. My love is a tiny little thing and he’s a bit on the pale side and it’s strange really, but he has a thing for these cute little red ear muffs, I swear, he never takes them off (I think they’re sewn in--the poor thing). But that’s no matter because Little E (don’t ask, I won’t tell) loves me and he’s always there to comfort me when I need him (and even when I don’t). And best of all, he never complains when I’m cranky or clingy or weepy or whiny or (bless him) when I smother and smoosh his cute little body (though I do wish he’d stay under my chin where I put him, somehow the ornery little thing always ends up snuggled comfortably between my breasts--I think he does it on purpose). No, he just loves me. And I love him.

So I’m feeling pretty good, still a bit tired, but good.