Cup of sugar?

I was going to write something nice and romantic about missing M. while he's out of town for a few days. I swear, I even had the haiku syllables worked out.

But then I sat down at my computer and looked out the window and saw what is evidently our humpy new neighbor, sanding or buffing something in his humpy new bedroom. Shirtless. And sweating. With his shorts teetering precariously on the edge of his sweaty, new neighbor buttocks.



And that's when I remembered that having one's home to oneself for a few days isn't the absolute worst thing in the world, because it allows one to take some Me Time and do the things one wouldn't otherwise have the opportunity to do. Like pine at the window for thirty straight minutes waiting for the shorts to drop another inch.

And also, after putting it off for a solid twelve hours, finally sitting down to work on one's novella-in-progress after a three month hiatus. Which is what I'm going to do right now. Until M. calls to say goodnight. Or the shorts drop.