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Can�t sleep. Not because I�m not tired, but because my brain is way too busy for my own good. Also, I think I am somewhat subconsciously trying to outlast the Husband.
The Easter Bunny, terrible little creature that he is, seems to have left the flu in our baskets. Or, more to the point, he left it in the Husband�s basket, and the Husband was more than generous in sharing it with me. I�m fine now, mostly because I have avoided him like the plague all week. He, unfortunately, has strep throat, which he ignored for three days because he was �too tired to get out of bed,� so now he�s on ridiculous doses of amoxycillin to try and combat it. It�s been joyous in these parts, I tell you. I�ve been sleeping on the Aerobed for four days in the middle of the living room floor. When I woke up Wednesday, Snickers and Moose were standing in their cage, staring at me. I�m not certain they weren�t there like that all night, which I find to be more than a little creepy.
Anyway, moving on�
The damn flu, I believe, killed my chance to meet Iwinzulus, which really, really, really sucks. Honey, I wasn�t just ignoring you. I just didn�t get your email until last night, at which point it was too late to make plans to meet you for lunch today. This makes me both angry (at the flu) and sad (at having missed you).
In other news, the pregnancy dreams have kicked in full-force. They say (and there goes that �they� again) that dreams get weirder during pregnancy, and that erotic dreams can become more prevalent. I have experienced both of these things. My erotic dreams have always been a source of much interest for me, mostly because they almost always involve someone I know in real life, generally (other than the Artboy, and my erotic dreams about him are a subject for another day altogether) people I�ve not had any sexual contact with. Last night, I had one about one of my coworkers. In happy news, this time (unlike when I worked at the hospital), my brain chose a MALE coworker, and one that, in a different situation, with different parameters, in a different life, I could have found myself with in a situation like the one in my dream. Well, perhaps not EXACTLY like the one in my dream, since part of it involved negotiating the whole husband part of the deal (yes, in the dream I was married, but somehow I worked around that, without the Husband freaking out, which in real life would never happen).
This same coworker and I had a conversation not too long ago about making out, and how it was something we both missed. I guess the comment stuck in my head in more detail than I realized. Because make out we did. And I haven�t been kissed like that in my waking hours in a long, long time. We didn�t actually have sex�I woke up before it got to that point, but what did happen, when I look at it in my waking hours, was a lot like what used to happen in my sex life before I�d actually had sex. Back in high school, when you�d kiss and touch and hold for what seemed like forever. When just the touch of a hand on your bare skin�ANY bare skin�was enough to give you chills.
I do miss that. And dreaming about it didn�t do anything to help.
Woke up smiling, though. And when I got to work, it was all I could do to look at him and not blush.
Writing all of that down makes me think back to that whole stage in my life, the pre-sex , post-kiss stage. The truth of the matter is, and I do wonder if this is true for other people, the body I knew (know? Does one forget these things?) best in the world, other than my own, was the high school boyfriend�s. I had literally years to get to know it without the addition of other things into the mix. And I would say that the same is true in reverse�never since then has anyone known exactly where to touch me, for how long, with what amount of force or gentleness�It�s too bad.
Perhaps that�s why I miss making out�
Enough of that. It�s way past my bedtime. Pleasant dreams, all�
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