Desultory and Impulsive

I find myself
Not wanting to go to bed

But yet
There is nothing yet I wish to do.
 
To be honest...

What I don't want to do
Is take a shower.

I need to take a shower
But I don't want to

The thought of having to
Just seems taxing to me.

The sensation of getting wet
Strikes me as appealing as getting into bed
...having not showered.

In short... revolting.


I could sleep on the couch...

But I think that if I did
My wife would wake up confused

And perhaps sad.

She goes to bed each night alone
And come morning I magically appear laying quietly next to her

I know I am projecting... but I think she likes it.

Come to think of it... I kinda like sliding into bed right next to her.

She's a hard sleeper and seldom stirs awake.

I like touching her back
And just feeling that she is there.

She is totally worth taking a shower for.

So I am going to do just that.
 
It was one of her more outlandish sexual fantasies, but the thought of laying naked outside and having little birds land on her struck her as appealing.

Not that she had an interest in having sex with birds. That thought sent her desire full force in the opposite direction.

She continued watching them land at the feeder and flutter about.

And it was that action that caused her to think.

The kinetic unpredictability of their flitting and fluttering. The lightness of their bodies...

She thought about how it would all happen and how she wouldn't be able to go through making it happen herself. She would need some one make her do it. Against her will. They would have to come into the house, strip her naked, drag her body into the woods, tie her down, sprinkle birdseed all across her body, then leave.

She wondered how long it would take before the first little bird landed on her. How long before they trusted her.
 
I've yet to decide which is worse

Having difficulty falling asleep
Or
Waking up way sooner than needed
 
I remember how when I first started reading the story to her... how she got quiet.

I continued to read
And it felt great.
Although it was over the phone and I couldn't see her, it felt like she was there with me. There was this feeling to it. One that I pushed back but couldn't deny.

She felt like a daughter.

And like I said. I pushed it back. I pushed it down. I continued reading.

Her breathing became heavy in a way that I noticed. Her struggle to maintain only caused it to stagger. I continued without pause. Only softer. Something was wrong. Not wrong... heavy. Heavy in her and it was spreading to me.

She was crying
 
I find myself wondering about that moment.

Things were complicated for her. As they are with everyone I guess.

But it struck me curious
Wondering if anyone has ever taken the time to give her their time. If she's ever been read to like that as a child. Or if it's just been so long since someone has cared enough to do so.

So much is lost. So many, in some way or another have been forced to have to grow up faster than they should have.

So many of us... searching, seeking out that someone we can be safe with. Hoping that some day, that someone will find us. If not we them first.
 
Because... you know... people are stupid and shit.

So... Yeah. Fuck them.
 
On to more important matters at hand...

How is it that food engineer people-types have not yet produced a viable breakfast cereal version of Nilla wafers?

It's 2018 motherfuckers.
 
I know what you're thinking.

And yes, Post did make such a cereal. But as Post cereal often does, they fucking failed.

I want Nilla wafer flavored cereal. Not some bullshit baby-vomit banana flavored cereal.

Fucking assholes.
 
So many of us... searching, seeking out that someone we can be safe with. Hoping that some day, that someone will find us. If not we them first.

It’s a phase... the seeking of safety in others... survivors, and she is a survivor, figure out you need to fix that shit yourself...

Even if you find that person as I did, as she did, at best they provide a safe environment to fix that shit but we can only really save ourselves. Everything else is a sticking plaster over the cracks...

I apologise, I am talking shit, carry on, :heart:
 
Now is about the time when I think to myself "I really should have done all this back when it was warmer out."
 
Now is about the time when I think to myself "I really should have done all this back when it was warmer out."

But then you would have dealt with bugs and other critters. A little nip never hurt.
 
But then you would have dealt with bugs and other critters. A little nip never hurt.

That... and I had a shit ton of other shit that needed to get done. No matter im kinda beating myself up with the belief that I'm just not working hard enough. That anyone else would have accomplished all that and more and would have had learned something along the way.
 
That... and I had a shit ton of other shit that needed to get done. No matter im kinda beating myself up with the belief that I'm just not working hard enough. That anyone else would have accomplished all that and more and would have had learned something along the way.

Ya can't change what was, so it's probably safe to stop with the self flagellation. Be happy with the fact the work is being done or has been accomplished.
 
The question remains... would I be happier if I were to accomplish more?
 
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