What kind of day is it, Peanut?
It's the kind of day where you tuck your t-shirt into your underpants before putting on your jeans.
He laughed so loudly. Not sure if he expected that answer or another, but this is the kind of day it seems to be, after all.
Why did you call me Peanut?
Sorry, it just came out. I'll stop.
It's fine. And it is, as Lochlan rolls his affection out like springy pastry, flat and wide to cover a huge area before picking it up and dropping it on top of us. We are four-and-twenty blackbirds in a pie. Lochlan? He's the king.
His queen was beheaded though.
Not before she tucked her undergarments into her drawers, I bet.
Wait. Undergarments means the same as drawers?
I don't know, maybe.
We are lying in bed, watching the rain pour down the windows in sheet after sheets. Those sheets are cold, mine are warm for August is almost as warm as Lochlan these days and he's made a rare shift to come and spend time here in the big house after a specific invitation that involved me crafting an elaborate story about how I am indeed made of sugar and will most definitely melt if I go out in the rain and also not letting go of Lochlan but we would love to see him nonetheless.
There is no method and there are no rules to this part of my life. We don't so much have secret code words as we do cyclical moods. He's free to accept or decline. He's free to leave in the middle of the night or sometime next week.
The only he can't do right now is tell me to get out, or tell me I'm not allowed to tuck my t-shirt into my underpants, because I'm a strong independent woman who needs all of her men, frankly and he had another laugh as he agreed to whatever I want. My little heart doesn't desire much but what it does desire is highly specific. My only regret this morning is that Lochlan left (WORKWORKWORK WTF) before I won our bet handily, in that he figured the minute he left (without his shirt tucked in, I might add, which is fine, you'll just BE COLD LATER), August would follow.
But he didn't.
Hoping he stays until February. At LEAST.
It's the kind of day where you tuck your t-shirt into your underpants before putting on your jeans.
He laughed so loudly. Not sure if he expected that answer or another, but this is the kind of day it seems to be, after all.
Why did you call me Peanut?
Sorry, it just came out. I'll stop.
It's fine. And it is, as Lochlan rolls his affection out like springy pastry, flat and wide to cover a huge area before picking it up and dropping it on top of us. We are four-and-twenty blackbirds in a pie. Lochlan? He's the king.
His queen was beheaded though.
Not before she tucked her undergarments into her drawers, I bet.
Wait. Undergarments means the same as drawers?
I don't know, maybe.
We are lying in bed, watching the rain pour down the windows in sheet after sheets. Those sheets are cold, mine are warm for August is almost as warm as Lochlan these days and he's made a rare shift to come and spend time here in the big house after a specific invitation that involved me crafting an elaborate story about how I am indeed made of sugar and will most definitely melt if I go out in the rain and also not letting go of Lochlan but we would love to see him nonetheless.
There is no method and there are no rules to this part of my life. We don't so much have secret code words as we do cyclical moods. He's free to accept or decline. He's free to leave in the middle of the night or sometime next week.
The only he can't do right now is tell me to get out, or tell me I'm not allowed to tuck my t-shirt into my underpants, because I'm a strong independent woman who needs all of her men, frankly and he had another laugh as he agreed to whatever I want. My little heart doesn't desire much but what it does desire is highly specific. My only regret this morning is that Lochlan left (WORKWORKWORK WTF) before I won our bet handily, in that he figured the minute he left (without his shirt tucked in, I might add, which is fine, you'll just BE COLD LATER), August would follow.
But he didn't.
Hoping he stays until February. At LEAST.