Monday 21 May 2018

Pride's a fickle bitch.

Worked a long shift today. So tired. Ben rubbed my legs for twenty-five minutes straight and now they're Jello but he's also the only one allowed to touch my feet. I have issues. No massages, no beauty treatments, I can barely stand to let Daniel cut my hair or Lochlan cut my bangs even. Doctors are difficult. Tattoos are alright, at least. (Side note here: my wings now look like they're part of the rest of my suit and I have had a lot of comments on them as the tips stick out the bottom of my work dress on the backs of my elbows.)

But yeah, for someone as habitually sex-addicted and affection-whoreish as I am, it's weird to hate to be touched. Or maybe it's a mark of those who belong to the Collective only. Maybe that's how you tell us from the rest of the world.

Also, I get paid this week! And as is tradition in this family, when you get your first paycheque you spend it selfishly and willfully on whatever the heck you want.

I don't know what to spend it on. I can't buy time, clearly (remember the fun of yesterday's moods). I don't buy jewelry for myself. I don't like clothes. I have enough art supplies to paint the point five times over. We got amazing pool floaties last year. I can't actually think of anything here.

Uh.

Geez.

It's not enough for a trip..unless it's a day trip. Maybe that's what we'll use it for. A trip into the interior maybe to a winery for lunch. Gas will be included in the cost because ow, it's so expensive right now. I'm going to keep dreaming on this until Friday when I see it show up in my bank account.

I can add five zeroes to what you anticipate and you could have your trip, Neamhchiontach. 

I don't reply. I like the idea of trying to plan it and not knowing if it can actually be a thing. And also now I remember why my legs hurt twice as much as they usually do today.