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A Sexretary Day, Polkadots & Boobies

I’m sitting here at “The Doghouse,” as I call the place here in St. Louis where I dogsit. I’ve walked the dogs and eaten dinner. The TV’s on (because I’ve discovered I kinda like the company sometimes – I know, big shock) and I should be perusing want ads, writing cover letters, sending in resumes, thinking about my future, but, frankly…

I’m bored.

Today started out rough. As I noted in my Facebook update, “I am tired, disheartened, exhausted and depressed. House & pet sitting has been a boon to my “when my job ends” fund, but it sucks trying to work in a strange, less-than-ideal environment, without my own place/people/things around me (ie my bed when I want to crawl into it and have a good cry.) Really? I’m just done now.feeling hopeless.”

Then W emailed me and suggested I come over to work from his house for awhile, and everything was better. At least until I had to leave to come back to the Doghouse.

One of the things that is hard about housesitting right here in town, and in particular here, is that I am only 10 minutes from W’s, but I still can’t spend all my time with him. I have responsibilities, I have to be here, and he doesn’t like to spend time here, in a stranger’s house that I am tasked to care for like my own. I appreciate that about him. It shows respect for the people who have entrusted me with their home, and it shows respect for me, because he knows I take my responsibilities very seriously.

But it leaves me here, alone, while he is only minutes away. :-(

So I decided to take a few minutes off being “responsible” and hang out here, with you all, and share some pics of my day.

This was earlier, when I was playing sexretary and getting my butt whacked:

sexretary2

And this was later, when I glanced over into my Shoe Room and saw my polka dot heels there. “Oh my god, I forgot it’s Polkadot Boobday on A Dissolute Life Means…!” I said.

I don’t have that many polkadots in my closet – but I do have these awesome heels, and…yeah, it wouldn’t be a “conventional” Boobday pic, but I’m okay with that. ;-) Still, I had missed the cutoff for it…

But there I was, and there were my polkadot heels… “C’mon, let’s do it anyway,” I said. W was more than happy to oblige me.

polkatriptych

So there you have it, an unanticipated, unofficial, POLKADOT Boobday!

And now I gotta get back to what I’m supposed to be doing. You know, watching Netflix, or reading my book, or playing Candy Crush.

(Even though it’s an unofficial Boobday entry, I’ll still post the Boobday badge, so ya’ll can click the link and check out the rest of the polkadotty boobs!)

adissolutelifemeans.com/boobday/

One Comment

  1. Yes. I think writers are the last people to every kick the shame to the curb around Boredom. We are expected (by ourselves) to always be: brilliant; full of interesting ideas; interesting; have a great (past) story to tell. Truth? Sometimes not so much.

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