(This post is meta. This is nothing. There are too many footnotes. Sorry.)
Easier to take care of, he said. This is correct. I needed to borrow two extra people to change his bed because I can't lift the blankets and didn't want to drag them across the floor. Why doesn't he do it himself, you ask? We have a system. If he pulls that card for chores he also needs to grab someone to help. If bedding is a two or three person job then maybe the vikings were leaving out a lot of relevant info but they also probably didn't change their bedding on the reg, methinks.
If only I could make a blanket out of waves, I think far too often to be healthy.
Those sorts of thoughts are Alarming but Lochlan worries about all the wrong things. I'm thinking from a beauty standpoint, from a striking distance. Imagine. I can match the colors of my sea but not that visual comfort. I can pull off a lot of things, frankly and this morning I am most proud that not only did Caleb chose Ireland to do his shopping (he used to default to Egypt or Begium for bedding) but he's asked to step in a little harder to make up for Sam's absence. And he asked formally, on his fucking knees, waves threatening to crash over his head, drowning him in hell, darkness and high water for all eternity.
I was so pleased that he asked like that I forgot to say no.
And now I'm fucked.
(That's literal and figurative, if you're keeping score.)
(There's a brain-emptying for your post full moon, Friday the thirteenth. Figures.)
*(The fur bedding has gone to four different wildlife rescue centres in the states. To snuggle up baby animals in need. I'm DYING here. I love that thought.)
Whoa mistletoeCaleb has replaced his fur blankets* with the most beautiful finely-knit cashmere and linen bedding from Ireland. The blankets aren't scratchy and the sheets aren't rough. It's a refined, understated switch from the brutal warmth and heavy presence of the former and I don't hate it, like I thought I might, expressing dismay at the abrupt change. The boys tend to be minimalist in nature. Skew viking, skew ancient. Finely woven herringbone is such a massive, progressive departure from all of that. Refined? Who wants refined? I want wild.
(It's growing cold)
I'm seeing ghosts
(I'm drinking old)
Red water
Easier to take care of, he said. This is correct. I needed to borrow two extra people to change his bed because I can't lift the blankets and didn't want to drag them across the floor. Why doesn't he do it himself, you ask? We have a system. If he pulls that card for chores he also needs to grab someone to help. If bedding is a two or three person job then maybe the vikings were leaving out a lot of relevant info but they also probably didn't change their bedding on the reg, methinks.
If only I could make a blanket out of waves, I think far too often to be healthy.
Those sorts of thoughts are Alarming but Lochlan worries about all the wrong things. I'm thinking from a beauty standpoint, from a striking distance. Imagine. I can match the colors of my sea but not that visual comfort. I can pull off a lot of things, frankly and this morning I am most proud that not only did Caleb chose Ireland to do his shopping (he used to default to Egypt or Begium for bedding) but he's asked to step in a little harder to make up for Sam's absence. And he asked formally, on his fucking knees, waves threatening to crash over his head, drowning him in hell, darkness and high water for all eternity.
I was so pleased that he asked like that I forgot to say no.
And now I'm fucked.
(That's literal and figurative, if you're keeping score.)
(There's a brain-emptying for your post full moon, Friday the thirteenth. Figures.)
*(The fur bedding has gone to four different wildlife rescue centres in the states. To snuggle up baby animals in need. I'm DYING here. I love that thought.)