Thursday, December 23, 2004
Lethargy is sinfully sexy. I have come to that conclusion. There are so many things a man is supposed to do, and it feels so deliciously comfortable to simply ignore each of them, and stay suspended in your private little bubble, content to watch the world drift past... maybe stick your tongue out at the poor slobs from time to time.
Sigh - the life of the idle and sexy.
My phone has a particularly horrible alarm ring, which makes me ache to shatter the damn thing, but I remember just in time that this is the little witch that made me poor in Delhi, after the whopping payment I made for it, and so, reason rushes to its rescue. I am content to merely switch it off, and settle back into a snooze that meanders through the Wizard of Oz's backyard, before coming up through the rabbit-hole in Kansas - at 8 am, I realise I'm late for work, and I scream.
I'm neither idle, nor sexy. Except for when I blog. That's when the Wizard of Oz takes over. Do I hear you mutter 'exorcism' there, under your breath?
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