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Treat yourself and shit
An Afternoon of Panties
My jackass husband has been out of town for months, only home for about forty-eight hours at a time before he’s off to the next land of heart surgeries and vein harvesting and a bunch of shit I don’t have the brains for.
While this means I don’t have to try to fall asleep to war blastings on my TV, or worse, Ancient fuckin’ Aliens, it also means that I’m goddamn lonely.
Yeah, I know. I have four kids and sixty-two pets. I’m still bored, dude.
He’s the person I talk to at night or watch that stupid reality show with.
I’ve been feeling sorry for myself for so long that I’m starting to actually hate myself instead of him, so today, I put away the pink dildo and made myself leave the house.
I even looked cute with my tight flared leggings and my southwestern shirt with a shitload of turquoise jewelry because my grandfather was a full-blooded Navajo or something, and I vibe with that shit. I don’t know for sure, that might be a lie. But my mom’s cheekbones are higher and perkier than Kim Kardashian’s ass implants, so I think it’s real.
Anyway, I gave my baby dachshund two thousand kisses and loves and told him mommy would be back soon, and with my cute ass outfit, I set out by myself.
