Wherefore Art Thou, Sugar Daddy?
It’s Monday and I’m home in the comforts of the hardworking air-conditioner and my loving bed. A terrible sore throat kept me up all night and this morning, I was debating if I should forsake the yearnful arms of my bed and go to work. My body won, against my weak will, and thank god too. Two hours past the time I was supposed to start work, I started to have the runs. Running to and from my bed and the loo, to the amusement of my cat, I clutched my Henry Miller and my tummy.
I miss having all the time in the world. It’s been less than five months since I started work, but it seems like forever. You’d think I’d run out of things to do at home. I have the books by the nightstand vying for my attention, endless laundry to turn in my washer, a DVD waiting to be watched, travel photos to upload, posts to write, a cat to amuse… It sure beats sitting at my desk at work, twiddling thumbs and waiting for brainless work to be dumped on my table.
I need to find me a Sugar Daddy.