I had planned, last night, to make my angsty V-Day post…I really did (I had material). But I woke after a very torpid, very restful sleep and found myself not in the mood – remembering wicked grins are superior to furrowed frowns and that kind of stylin’ angst is a little too overindulgent for the fasting season, a whole box of over rich chocolates that taste vaguely of adolescence. Angry love-day monologues just seemed redundant. ‘Sides…I made sure I have Mondays off this semester, if for no other reason than to be the only person who doesn’t mind Mondays.
And, at the end of the day, I have a lovely V-Day card from Torrie’s lovely mother.
Now I’m off. I must get Lenore (my serpentine valentine) her dinner by black-light, mouse-tar-tar. Then, I will make sweet, sweet love to a voodoo priestess – if by sweet love, one means form her character, polish it and explore every contour and nuance of her metaphor with deft and delicate fingers.