Is there anything sexier than long, soulful moans? How about being in a state that precludes movement? Pain that feels like it goes to the bone? Feelings of being in an altered mental state?
Given those definitions, I've been the sexiest man alive for the past week. Unfortunately, I have also been wracked with coughs, draggingly tired, and desperately downing hot fluids to replace the beige gunk that has been coming out of chest and sinus in improbable quantities. For some reason I have had no fever. The rest of the symptoms have been classic, and they match those displayed by one particular person at work. Yes, at work. Not home in bed, recovering, but at work. I'm not bitter, really.
At this point I'm tired of being tired, hacked off at coughing all the time, and ready to sound like someone is NOT specifically choking the life out of me when I answer the phone. I'm so over self-quarantine, cabin fevered into going out to get food just to go out. Just to make it clear how much I want to be past this, I'm looking forward to working tomorrow. I'd rather face the B.S. and plow through the piles of steaming stinking politics than spend another day face-to-the-pillow imagining my T-cells having foreign DNA for lunch, snacks, dinner, nightcaps, etc.
I'm ready to have my sexual confusion back, to be my usual not-quite-fitting-in self, to ponder how to move forward and how delightful and stupid BDSM social life is. I'm almost there, the caustic ring to this note will testify. And by next weekend I hope I'm back in form, or back in my usual form of form.
Viva kink! Viva... well... me. Again. Soon. Very, very soon.
oowww get better soon Quietlisten
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