I’m already sleepy. My thoughts are hither and thither. So I’m binging on Bones. About to pull up files to write, a story to finish. But Bones I can’t pull away from.
I can’t decide on munching on a banana, either. The fruit. Not the innuendo of the male sexual organ. But mmm if I had a man like Booth in my proximity… (My age, of course.)
Well, I digress.
I’m also irritated. But what can I say?
I’m not happy with a few people. But I’m content at home.
Tomorrow rains in a new day. With sunshine, undoubtedly, in this semi-desert of a state. With mountains breaking up the sand and plains.
So two shots of vodka in. Maybe I’ll indulge in tea, instead?
I’m remembering why older men held my appeal. Why I don’t trust people to begin with. And why, even though I suffer auto-immune issues and physical implications of hormone imbalances…
Well, my worth is substantially higher than I’m given credit for.
I’ll maybe stretch before I crawl into bed. Allow my spine to release. And my breathing to deepen.
I also make better drinks than my friend from yesterday.
Matter of opinion. But a rum and coke should taste more like the coke than rum. 😉
I’ll get something done come the morrow. Besides finalized paperwork being sent in for school.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Do things for me. Plan for tomorrow. Accomplish what needs to be done today.
I think I’m free.
And with that- Irish Wolfhounds. ❤ But maybe beyond that? Wolf hybrids. I want one. Criticize me all you like. They’re beautiful and ill-equipped for the wild.
Like a wolf’s heart, mine is beating to a pattern beyond the walls of fabrication.