Metaphorical Thoughts at Bedtime

As I ready the coffee pot for tomorrow and go about ritualistic bedtime motions, my nerve endings are tingling all over. No, haven't smoked any pot, done any drugs, or even had some pre-bedtime booze. I'm going back to work tomorrow after having about eight weeks that I could call my own (within reason, anyway). So, the tingling isn't euphoric, orgasmic, drug-induced tingling. It's the on edge kind. The kind where you dread what's coming next. Then, I have an epiphany. I KNOW this feeling. I've felt it before! It reminds me of when I'm in PMS mode and my spouse knows the garage will be closed for a few days. Sooooo, he begins in the a.m. with the winking and the "looks." You know the "looks." My hormones are convincing my body and my mind that I want no part of anything behind the "looks." Our anticipation levels build all day, but in two VERY different ways. I'm thinkin 'please, God, just let Aunt Flow come a little early.' The obligatory deed hangs out there between us all day. I try not to bend over, wear anything too tight or too revealing, and skip the toothbrushing. THIS is EXACTLY how I feel about going back to work after my extended at-home vacay. I know I'll capitulate; I'll put out or in this case, I'll go. BUT, I won't, won't enjoy it!

Re-born, Phoenix, and other words meaning NEW BLOG!

I've been writing crap on this blog for about six months or so. I get about four or five posts and delete them with a disgusted self-loathing sneer on my face. I feel whiney on the blog. I was whiney when I wrote in a journal with old-fashioned pen and paper! Sooooo, once AGAIN, Muse Girl is having a resurrection! I may whine, bitch, or moan. I may be the only one who reads these posts and castigates the author. But, I must, simply must, give rise to the voice in my head that rolls around like marbles in a jar! No, not schizo-hearing voices. It is my own voice. Frankly, I'm tired of hearing myself sometimes. There is a warning on my blog for a reason. My vocabulary lapses into the vulgar often when passion takes over. So beware and read no more if you have delicate sensibilities! Without further description, I present, "Muse Girl's Thoughts" . . . . . .