I'm drowning in a disgusting sea of drool. Saliva. Thumping hearts and vacant stares.
I'm awash in langour and daydreams. The waves of infatuation are lapping at the sides of my boat of forward progress.
I had plans for this weekend, damn it. I found my vacuum cleaner and was going to use it, for god's sake. (OK, that is a whole different story. My babysitter used it on my living room floor and very nicely put it away. It's been missing for over a week. And yes. I looked in the closets. And no, it wasn't in there. HOW DO YOU LOSE A FREAKING VACUUM CLEANER?!?!?!?! ::small voice:: She put it in the upstairs linen closet which is so packed with junk I never thought to open the door. Shows you I wasn't changing the sheets either, huh?)
I can't walk into or past my bedroom anymore without being sucked in. What is the problem?
Boxed DVD set of Horatio Hornblower.
'Course Kennedy ain't so bad either.
God help me. I haven't had crushes like this since, well, that would just be embarrassing to say.
Choices are: vacuum, eat, read, write, watch more Horatio Hornblower. NO! NOO!! I say! No more of this time-wasting foolishness! The Dog Hair is pillowing up around your shoes as you walk across the floor, woman! (Channelling Cap't Pellew?) Do your DUTY!