Wednesday,
February 14, 2007
VALENTINE'S DAY
Writers don't have holidays
But I have a wonderful honey anyway who came home and had
Thai with me, rubbed my back and cuddled me, then let me stagger back to
my computer and work on editing the novella. If that's not the perfect writer's
spouse, I don't know what is.
I love you, Lyndon. You're wonderful.
All I wanted for Valentine's Day
Was to stay in bed, preferably with a cat or two sprawled across me -- it was COLD here in the clavicle of Texas this morning! And our apartment complex is not known for its superior insulation or weatherproofing, which meant that I had to turn on the little space heater in the kitchen just to get the rest of the public rooms up to something approaching a decent temp.
Oh, and Jordan (very thin, silky fur, gets cold at the drop of a hat) really, REALLY wanted me to go back to bed and snuggle. Which, yes, I did for just a couple of minutes. I think evem the Black Velvet Purrmonster was looking at the heap of covers I am pleased to call my bedclothes and thinking, "Hmm, that actually might be a good idea right about now, even if I have to share them with HIM."
But no, I was a good little corporate drone, pulled on my business casual clothes and went into work. At least the cold meant that I could wear one of my Chicago tops (a series of jewel-toned stretch velvet tops in various styles that are normally way too hot to wear down here). But I could still do with a nap.
