The washer pounded out of control. The banging causing an inner rage to unleash.
Why can’t that thing ever just work? I just want to write.
It was a load of white clothes and towels. I knew it would most likely be unbalanced because unless there was a minuscule amount of laundry in the washing machine, it would bang like a Christmas drummer out of season.
(moved to basement, towels are dripping wet.)
Great. At least the noise stopped. Repositions the clothing in the washer and starts the load again. It spins with no problems. Now the towels are in.
I’m trying to think and the damn white clothes. . . with the banging.
The dog woofs, like that noise could possibly be someone knocking at the door. Moron.
The night is early and much can be accomplished, but I am side-tracked. Love causes a drift into a day dream.
I wish he was here to keep me company while I do housework. I’m lusting for him, but know he won’t be showing his face. What is it being apart from this man? We can’t seem to get enough of each other. Nearly daily we find the time to be alone.
What does love feel like? It’s different for every person.
Some people never feel it. Others have it for a short period of time then lose it. And even others have it for nearly a life time. Love is powerful.
Wow, aren’t I insightful?
I’m sitting at the top of the steps looking down at the empty walls thinking someday, there will be grandbabies on the wall. Photos of the grandbabies that is, no grandkids trying to climb the handrail.
Brian calls while at work.
It felt SO good to hear his voice. We talked about how soon it would be until he came home. My butterflies kicked it up a notch when he spoke. He said he couldn’t fathom life without me. I had been thinking of saying the same to him, even using the word fathom. Freaks.
Amazing how love creates a physical reaction without even a touch. If someone is in love, just the sight of the person they are in love with causes their body to stir. It can be a simple jolt or tightening of the skin, to the extreme of nearly wanting to vomit, but somehow keeping the contents of their stomach in check. Vile, but true.
Never had the “feel like I’m gonna barf” urge and for that, I am grateful. When he walks in the door after work it is impossible for me not to smile when I see his face. Just the sight of him brings me pleasure.
I can’t wait to get my hands on him. I wrap my arms around his solid body. He’s tall and handsome and I’m a fan of both. His eyes sparkle, and I know that shit is for me. He pulls me to his face, my head in his hands. He whispers into my ear…
I’ve missed you so much. Just the sight of you gets me so excited. You have too many clothes on. Let me help you take them off baby.
See how easily distracted I get thinking about this man?
So what does love feel like to me with him… I’m going to try to explain it. If you think this sounds boring, leave my blog now. Otherwise, read on and try to keep up.
Normal breathing patterns don’t always seem to exist. You tear my breath away with just a glance. The closer your face gets to mine the faster our breathing is until we are breathing the same air, literally sharing it, excited by the thought and act.
I want to be daring. I enjoy life and want to share that daringness with someone else, preferable someone good-looking, has a sense of humor and is wealthy. Don’t worry, like Meatloaf said, “Two out of three ain’t bad.”
Our lips touch and explosions go off between us. Thank God they are “inside the body, fireworks type of electrical sparks” (totally my description, seriously, Google did not assist) and no one dies from being in love by accidentally electrocuting themselves on someone they apparently love.
You working these double shifts suck. The only upside is I’m writing and doing house work. Speaking of which, the washer stopped. When I was down there earlier I dumped the water in the basket from the wet towels in the hole for the sump pump. It’s a dark, dingy corner of the basement and this basement is on the high level of creepy. The one room has a mysterious bricked-in section of the basement floor. Who bricks a basement floor? What’s under there? Why do I have the urge to dig it up? What’s up with the name of that pump? Sump pump. . . it sounds like a sexual act. Ew, it the hole is gross. Where am I going with this? Sheesh.
I don’t think anyone ever died from being in love. The actual feeling, that is. Lots of people have died from being in love, love with the wrong person. Lord knows I already went that route. That’s finally over.
Touching the person you fell in love with feels amazing. Like every nerve-ending on your finger tips can read the body of the person you love.
They smell delicious. Sometimes the urge to bite them and check for deliciousness is impossible to resist.
You don’t mind when I bite you, in fact, you dig it. I just can’t leave marks anyone can see. Hmmm and you are the one who suggested we watch “True Blood” together. You know how I say I want to kiss your face off? It’s just a euphemism. I’m actually a vampire and I want to bite you.
The taste. Everyone has their own taste. I’ll let you figure that all out on your own.
You taste so good. And the taste of us together is amazing. I love to kiss your face off.
Have you ever wanted to kiss someone’s face off?? Let me a comment on here or Facebook.