I popped Shakira’s Donde estan los ladrones into my Discman and hit the gym with Trip. There were no three consecutive eight-minute miles last night, but still had to give myself an A for effort. And another one for having remembered all the words to the album.
At home, I got in touch with a long, hot shower, and my inner gourmet. Fed, I went to catch an hour of Benson and Stabler, but instead found that Blow was on. One bloody nose at a restaurant and I thought, “Well, this certainly isn’t going to end happily” and shut it off.
While Kitten played sneak attack (I’m wearing the battle wounds this morning), I dug out J’s old pajamas. I’m a good six inches shorter than J and so his fleece-lined pants cover my feet and drag on the floor — even when rolled twice at the waist. The comfort is both sentimental and real.
I put the pjs on and crawled into bed with some contact sheets and a Viggo-featured magazine (thanks!). The contact sheets were, for the most part, ignored. My 9 AM meeting will go less smoothly, but in the battle between work and Mr. Mortenson… well, there are very clear winners.
Men’s pajama pants that were so big they covered my feet was the reason I moved to the city I live in now – but no boyfriend was involved.
i hate thursdays with the fire of 1000 suns just because theres no benson/stabler. youre stuck with the struggling plots of ER. id almost rather study.
I’m glad you’re enjoying it, er… him as much as I did. Holy hottness!
And we know my feelings on fleece. Excellent.
It’s Friday!!!!
Alright, so I’m staring at my screen, thinking, “she just stole my life.”
I was grouchy about the lack of L&OSVU after my shower, watched Blow just longer than you did, and got mauled by my kitten. Except he managed to jump in the toilet, too.
And I wore the ex’s clothes to bed.
No more stealing my life, missy.
IT’s been so cold Pjs have become a necessity.
try rolling them at the cuffs too.