Snow Angels

I know I’m suppose to be busy as fuck at work, but I just can’t seem to get there. My ankle is still swollen (this makes the 3rd week or so) and I’m just pretending I don’t look like a tree stump down there. I’ve avoided the heels for about as long as I can take it, but with each day a little piece of me grows more intense and the need for height yells my name.

You know when you’re drunky pants and you think you’re all hot, so you decide to do a little sex kitten dance on the bed only to realize your boy is passed out on the carpet and has missed the whole thing? Yea, that’s what’s it like right now.

So you throw a little blanket on the man, and then proceed to make snow angels in your bed instead. Shit, you got the whole thing to yourself anyway. That’s my life right now. I’m trying to do the rascal dance, but in reality I’m a one legged gimp at a freak show with only the mop man looking over occasionally to make sure I haven’t slipped on the wet surface he left behind.

I can’t say that I’m unhappy about it. In fact I can say that things are going pretty well. Snow angels and all.

Now if only I could remember what it is I’m suppose to be doing….