After several days of fulltime work and forced socializing in the evenings, I had a whole day off yesterday. And what a day it was! I took some drugs, tea and chocolate to be precise. They kicked in during the dog walk, and what a happy man I was. I could have walked all day.
At night, I dreamt I was making off with a pixie, a proletarian office girl so light I carried her all the way to my place, her arms and legs wrapped round me.
By the next dream she had morphed into my ex, the one who once asked if I'd be able to wee into a vagina. It wasn't for her, but "for a friend". Anyway, in the dream we were just about to make up for lost time when, would you believe it, I was woken by the usual suspect.
Real life is occasionally almost as good as a dream. Among the clients this week, there were several cleavages worth looking down. In fact not looking would seem needlessly rude. What a fortunate creature I am. As the man said, we are all in the gutter but some of us are looking up skirts.
I'm in bed now, but if I fall asleep someone's bound to come home through the window again, just when the dream's getting interesting.