Might As Well Face It

[A little satori (un satorito?) last night while cuddled in bed under terrycloth bathrobes, down comforter, and a warm boyfriend: a little bit of absolute bliss goes a long way. For just about five seconds, I think it was between "The West Wing" and "Law and Order," just after we giggled about something inconsequential, John and I lay holding each other. I felt suspended in time and space, in a state of perfect happiness. He said five things to irritate and piss me off before that, and I'm sure five things afterward, but right then...]

[I need a better song to quote than Robert Palmer's "Addicted To Love." But that's about what it is.]

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