I know you didn’t sleep at all last night because of the number of e-mail I had waiting for me this morning. And about that last e-mail…tell me, is this mood fluctuation nonsense real and actually a part of the more sinister and hellish realities of menopause? Because if it is, I’m seriously considering filing suit against your ovaries–or what’s left of them. A man can only endure so much.
Enough with the romantic talk. I have meetings most of the day and won’t be around much. I’ll call later tonight. Will you be around? I’ll get in very late. Do you want me to wake you?
And by the way, am I correct in assuming hats off to you for finally mastering peeing while sitting down? I consider that quite an accomplishment for a woman of your stature.
That photo of you at the bottom of the bowl was all the inspiration I needed. Thanks for the applause and the inspiration. You look good in yellow, by the way.
Yeah, I know you’re swamped. Call later. I’ll be around. ‘Twas a bitch day at work. I think I have fallen in the midst of a bad Susan Hayward movie.
I miss you.
You are a funny lady. Funny looking….
All my something.. I just don’t know what at this juncture.
I’m thinking of a number between one and prick and yes, you guessed it.
I don’t feel all that well. Menopause is very real and and is about to become even more so when you get home. I’m saving up some rage with your name on it. It’s the heat flashes and the mood swings. One minute I’m fine, then next minute I’m in a pile, feeling horrible about myself while sweating and crying uncontrollably–not unlike you were after our first sexual “discounter”. I’d call it an “encounter”, but I don’t want to lie. There was nothing “in” about it and certainly included nothing to “count”.
Must close now. I’m burning up and feel the urge to stick my head in the freezer. This heat flash is a bad one indeed.
Have I told you today that I love you? If not, there’s good reason.
Sweetie, be more Earth friendly and use less power by simply sticking your fevered head in our bed. Same affect and just as frigid.
Will be home very late. Considering the mood you’re in, please don’t cook. I really don’t want to risk 13 hours of diarrhea like I did last Wednesday.
I do love you–in spite of you.
Hugs, my love…hugs,
You do awaken things in me. And yes, there are times when you engulf my heart and my soul. I do love you. In fact, my heart nearly burst as I watched you exit the shower one day last week. Your body, so firm and masculine…dripping with beads of water as you stepped out of le bain. I did notice the many bruises though. I’m so sorry for that, my love.
I’ll use less force and a nine foot pole next time I touch you.
If I’m asleep when you get in, please don’t wake me; I want to remain in the arms of Morpheus. At least he doesn’t snore.
All my love,