I wanted to spend the evening with my new history boyfriend, Mark Twain, but the Butcher wanted to watch TV, so I got sucked into watching TV with the Butcher. Which is a fine way to spend an evening, don’t get me wrong. I love trying to guess in the first five minutes what the plot will be.
But I dreamed about Mark Twain all night. In my sleep. Which I had! Solid and uninterrupted.
I don’t want to get too excited because lord knows I thought this cold was going away last Friday and here it is almost Friday again, but I slept through the night.
It’s the small victories, people.
Anyway, if we lived in a mansion, I’d have just gone into the library and read Mark Twain.
Of course then I’d be complaining that the Butcher and I never spend time together.
So, there you go. Nothing makes me happy, except the possibility of finally not being sick.
Filed under: Stories About Me
You do have another room in your house without a bed, tv, or stove. Just saying you could put a comfy chair and nice reading lamp there.