The things Amoir will do to avoid working, pt 983475

8 Oct

Well, there is a looming deadline to contend with but for the most part this weekend has been spent in a most feline and contented state. I don’t think I actually want the weekend to cease. Just one more day of sun filtering through to me in quiet repose, another morning of immersing into the pool, floating up to see the blossom trees overhang past the sharp lines of buildings, and just one more day to enjoy my haphazard sleeping pattern.

I have planned a quick jaunt for the end of next month. Just a week away in a nearby city to catch up with friends and sample the galleries. There is no real itinerary, as always, but given the short amount of time I should square up a hit list lest my aim blur and fail (oh those pesky digressions).

In disturbingly water- and travel-unrelated news (for I am obsessed with both at the moment), the Effusive Complimenter and I have developed an SMS ritual. We communicate solely through haiku. Something which the text message medium is custom made for. There are not enough words in the Oxford to describe the blessings of that lass or Schnootle (who favoured me with a delicious phonecall over the weekend).

I forgot how much the smell of things can inflame. Thanks to my past, there’s nowt more comforting than the flat aroma of masculinity and mull. And the chap was in question was most comforting and deserving of a haiku.

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