Self indulgence: Falling asleep under a 300 thread count, sateen-finished sheet; a fluffy, soft, light microfleece blanket; a puffy cotton comforter and a fuzzy acrylic throw, savoring the weight and warmth in a chilly bedroom.
Self abuse: Having to climb out from under the blankets when the alarm shrills in the frigid pre-dawn.
Self indulgence: Spending my tax refund on 230 flower bulbs.
Self abuse: Having to be outside on a fall morning when it's pouring rain and only managing to get sixty of the bulbs planted before my muscles scream that they hate me and want me to die, and waking up the next morning with a screaming back.
Self indulgence: A bubbly, frothy, warm bath full of Epsom salts and cinnamon-scented Lush goodness.
Self abuse: Slipping just slightly getting out of the tub and adding a painful hip bruise to the assorted aches from gardening.
Self indulgence: Having two big cuddly fuzzy dogs who love me and think I'm the best thing ever.
Self abuse: Trying to vacuum undercoat off the indoor/outdoor carpet in the breezeway.
Self indulgence: Singing to a restless puppymonster to sleep so he'll quit crying and settle down.
Self abuse: Then being unable to go to sleep myself, and lying in bed hating the snores emanating from said puppymonster.
1 comment:
Nothing starts the week like camelid sarcasm. ;-)
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