Foreword: Blogging is infinitely more pleasurable when you aren’t wearing pants.
This, of course, raises the question of why I am not wearing pants. The answer is simple: Burns Night. It takes a lot out of you, and replaces it with Spanish wine.
To celebrate my survival of Rabbie Burns’ Day, I have elected to not wear pants. I’ll prolly put some on later, but right now I don’t have the mental capacity to do so.
Instead, I want to whisper into your ear a split-second of magic.
I want to tell you that I walked into the gallery, next to my beautiful lassie, that we walked shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart, that we brushed our hands against the other’s, that we let our fingers mingle for too few sweet seconds before we were called to serve. I want to tell you how I wished this moment would never end, that it would play out for infinities.
But to tell would be to lose a bit of my heart, so I will tell you to try the wine instead.