YES I KNOW IT IS SATURDAY

AND NOT WEDNESDAY.

I slipped and emailed the link for the apartment to M. fuck. what was i thinking.

i wasn't. i am crying every fucking day for that 5'8" tawny-headed pepperpot. like loving a fucking Italian. the cold is unbearable and the hot is Josehot.

i am having a lot of trouble keeping away from spamming him. i cannot even put myself in his shoes to see. I am wearing a blindfold. of love and lust and need and freedom. and smell.. oh, his smell and touch. gor.

i will not force anything. His call. take my hands off ~~ my top right ear pierce aching ~~ wtf does that mean? He never needed a chain for me. that white gold is my bond. that easy for him to deny? then i don't know.

I had a perfectly good offer to spend the night in Silverdale, hot tub and all, tucked away. A Scorpio with a pretty interesting package. But you know what? First off, he isn't M. and second of all (or first) i don't touch drunks. even sensuous lost ones.. .. .. no fixing.

i have no running water.  everything is frozen solid. i have heat and more propane if necessary when the power goes out. Started snowing hard here at 4:30pm. I made a pot of coffee so i can warm it up in the morning on the propane..

i have candles, two movies, plenty of killer smoke to go with this,  a bottle of wine in the fridge, Brie warming on the counter

i'm a hella woman and that's not even talkin'!

ON  a side note, I am not sure that Love triumphs over Pride. I have seen M. alter a day's plan/heart using only his personal will to turn it aside~~

Yet Pride got over on Love in my marriage because it had alcohol to fuel it. That i do know.
My father, Pride and Silence won over Love when it came to me.

Silence is the worst fucking test ever in my life. Certain silence. Mik'hael amante l'uomo.

Comments

[elizabethanne]

get a clue, liz, he dumped ya. too much fucking baggage.