What I had intended to post was this:
Woodsy, aka Mr. Big Woods, fed up with the lack of true winter weather is flying (via airplane) to the West Coast. He is arriving next Wednesday and I can't wait to see him. My spirits had been down and this perked me up.
The above is still true..sort of
He's going to Palm Springs- (no, I wasn't invited to join him: no, I did not want to go: and no, I am not upset...well, I wasn't). Woodsy has every right to enjoy himself on his own time and dime. He has mentioned numerous times that he hasn't been in years and that he wanted to visit, which I interpreted as Un Vacanzo O Solo Mio. Remember there is no romance here: and even if there was, I'm not so stupid as to lay down a bunch of rules, nor wheedle my way into joining him.
Not wanting to hear he'd cancelled his trip, I steered away from the subject on our semi-regular phone calls. Until today, when he I mentioned his Wednesday arrival, he told me that due to work, he'd changed it to Thursday....."and we get in around 6pm"
I should appreciate the fact that he's not shipping Mr. Nicely onward to the desert, so we can secretly philander here in The Wicked City. Mr. Nicely, you may recall, and I have talked (unlike the mysterious boy of Woodsy’s two seasons ago, who I never talked to, never saw a picture of, and who I kept calling him by my cat's name.....why I don't know.
But this, of course threw a wrench into the banana daiquiri of this Monkey's Bar-B-Q. No need to have the movie we both like prepped in the DVD player, nor the soundtrack to the disaster of a movie we both like on the gramophone, nor do I know need to buy new sheets, a new wardrobe, nor have the rugs cleaned.
If ever there was any doubt as to the absence of romance between Woodsy and I, this turn of events was the stake in the heart. And Mr. Norman Nicely is such an unflappable guy, I can't even cook up a nefarious plan to split them up: that is, if their relationship wasn't solid as I am sure it is. Or, at the least, have a big confrontation scene.
Woodsy, aka Mr. Big Woods, fed up with the lack of true winter weather is flying (via airplane) to the West Coast. He is arriving next Wednesday and I can't wait to see him. My spirits had been down and this perked me up.
The above is still true..sort of
He's going to Palm Springs- (no, I wasn't invited to join him: no, I did not want to go: and no, I am not upset...well, I wasn't). Woodsy has every right to enjoy himself on his own time and dime. He has mentioned numerous times that he hasn't been in years and that he wanted to visit, which I interpreted as Un Vacanzo O Solo Mio. Remember there is no romance here: and even if there was, I'm not so stupid as to lay down a bunch of rules, nor wheedle my way into joining him.
Not wanting to hear he'd cancelled his trip, I steered away from the subject on our semi-regular phone calls. Until today, when he I mentioned his Wednesday arrival, he told me that due to work, he'd changed it to Thursday....."and we get in around 6pm"
I should appreciate the fact that he's not shipping Mr. Nicely onward to the desert, so we can secretly philander here in The Wicked City. Mr. Nicely, you may recall, and I have talked (unlike the mysterious boy of Woodsy’s two seasons ago, who I never talked to, never saw a picture of, and who I kept calling him by my cat's name.....why I don't know.
But this, of course threw a wrench into the banana daiquiri of this Monkey's Bar-B-Q. No need to have the movie we both like prepped in the DVD player, nor the soundtrack to the disaster of a movie we both like on the gramophone, nor do I know need to buy new sheets, a new wardrobe, nor have the rugs cleaned.
If ever there was any doubt as to the absence of romance between Woodsy and I, this turn of events was the stake in the heart. And Mr. Norman Nicely is such an unflappable guy, I can't even cook up a nefarious plan to split them up: that is, if their relationship wasn't solid as I am sure it is. Or, at the least, have a big confrontation scene.
And that leaves me with nothing: except facing my old nemesis: reality.
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