There Are No Incurable Ills, There Are No Unkillable Thrills

I recently picked up a copy of Neuromancer, which has what is regarded to be a particularly fine, if dated, opening sentence. “The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.”

I read it aloud to KillBoy, who immediately agreed that he could see why people love that particular opener, and mused that it reminds me of another opening sentence I favor. “The great grey beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive”

While it’s perhaps not the fault of that traditionally dreary month that I have had more than a few weeks that tip the scales at more bad than good, I can agree I feel eaten alive. Work has been a clusterfuck, my anxiety has pretty much got me locked down and is affecting my relationship with KB, and I’m just now getting over a nasty cold I’ve had for over a week. So I’m going to blame February. It’s Feb 38th, right?

At least my darling husband is here to deliver me a little warmth.Upon hearing that I had a particularly bad day at work, he sprang into action to grab a bottle of wine and suggested that he take me out for sushi for dinner. It was exactly what I needed. The fish was so good tonight that I shushed him while I closed my eyes and chewed a particularly fantastic piece of salmon.

Back at home, evil pants shucked, I’m drinking the wine while listening to the Final Fantasy 8 OST, farting around on the internet and trying to decide on a fashion upper-body harness for when we make an amazon order later tonight. I’ve got a more utilitarian one picked out for him, but from an etsy seller. With any luck I’ll be able to order it before the summer kink con we’ll be attending.

Sometimes February and my state of mind are both grey, but his service and love are there to keep me running.



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