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Oh January, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways… It’s not just me I’m sure. January sucks. December is so busy and festive and then after the big blow out of the New Year, January drags on and on and on. It’s a dark month, a boring month and I wish we could skip right past it and into February for Valentine’s Day and chocolates.
Actually, forget the chocolates for now because I’ve eaten far too many of late. Why do so many people buy me chocolates? Do I look like a woman who needs feeding up? The stupid thing is I can’t resist them, they sit there on the side calling to me and before I know it I’ve eaten half a dozen truffles and I’m feeling just a little bit queasy. But I can’t throw them away, there’s starving children in Africa and someone bought the damn things for me. Next year I think I’ll insist everyone buys me socks. At least they’re something I need and I don’t ever feel the urge to over indulge in socks.
You see what January does to me, diary? I’m talking about socks. Freaking socks. Thankfully I have an amazing husband who knows just how to cheer up his blue wife. Mr Divine came home yesterday at lunch time. The kids were in school, it was my half day off and it was a delightfully delicious surprise.
“I can’t stay long,” he told me. “So follow me to the bedroom.”
I do love it when he gets dominant. He whisked me into bed, stripped me, kissed me all over and cheered me up very effectively indeed. I think he was quite chirpy at the end of the session too. Thirty minutes after he arrived he was dressed again and walking out of the door to get back to the office. I just sat on the sofa with a soppy smile on my face. Who says you have to have hours of foreplay and intercourse must last a long time to get satisfaction? Whoever it is needs a slap because I love a quickie. Sometimes you can’t beat the fevered rush of that encounter which is short and sweet because it has to be. Sometimes that’s all you need, all you want and gives you just the right kind of boost on a grey day.
Sure, sometimes it’s lovely to spend hours luxuriating in the hard lines of Mr Divine’s gorgeous body. I’m not going to say I don’t enjoy that, diary. But sometimes a small dose of what you fancy does you good.
I’m not sure my darling husband can come home every day for lunch but hopefully he’ll be able to fit in a few more January blues-beating visits between now and the end of the month. Or maybe I should drop in on him at the office, oh my… Now my imagination is running wild again. BRB, diary, I think I just need a little moment to myself…