a letter

Dear Visitor from Orlando,

I see you did not participate in my anonymous visitor's poll. I'm displeased. You see, you are in such a proximity to my whereabouts that I'm curious as to whether or not I've met you. I realize that maybe you don't want to blow your cover. Maybe you think that if you reveal yourself, that I'll stop writing about you. I pledge not to censor myself even if I know who you are! You were here tonight, and I missed you! Sneaky. You've been coming from my private blog, I noticed. The only way you can do that is if I add you specifically to the readers list. That narrows it down significantly!

Okay, if you don't want to out yourself here, maybe next time I see you, you can whisper in my ear, "Miss Avarice, we meet again!" and at least I will know who you are.

Regards,

Miss A.






On a completely separate note, there is nothing quite like making sweet sweet love to oneself in a warm cozy bed when it's chilly outside. I'm delightfully satisfied. In fact, I've been making a habit of having naked time, to the point where I am annoyed to put on my robe when I skip from my bedroom to the bathroom. Naked time is happy time.