A.N.N. (which is Mrs. Fever’s middle name) wears clothes when she has to. And she (we?) had to over the past few days because the male parent-type was visiting. Which is always…erm…interesting.
But daaaayyyummm, does it feel good to be able to walk around my own house unclothed once more! Pardon me while I imagine my own personal Vogue cover (not that I would ever read such tripe, but I wouldn’t picture myself on the cover of Penthouse Forum so it’ll do til something better comes along), complete with these eye-catching article titles…
NAKED Is The New Black!
Skin Is In!
Bare Is Best!
Okay, time for that particular fantasy(?) to be over. On to more productive imaginings. While you are reading this, I’ll be daydreaming (scratch that ~ it’s almost midnight, so it’s definitely not day; let’s just call it dreaming) about being rescued (and stripped and licked and kissed and…and and and…what?) by a firefighter. Or a Jedi Knight. Or possibly a Navy SEAL. And I won’t even give myself a panic attack wondering whether my bra and panties match (they always do, by the way…WHEN I wear them) during said rescue (one of my greatest fears is to be caught with mismatched undergarments, which is a story I’ll save for another time), because I’ll be rescued NAKED.
Which is exactly how I’m blogging.
Naked.
Feel free to visualize. 😉
Meanwhile, I’m going to revel (along with A.N.N.) in the feel of soft, cool sheets against my warm skin while I’m dreaming. G’night.