So.
I was trying to have some, uh, “come on, get happy” time last night.
Because, well, it’s been a long time. WEEKS.
And I’m one crabby beeyotch when I haven’t gotten mah rocks off.
So I picked the quietest tool in the box (the Bullet) and put a silencer over it (OK, it was more like a glow-in-the-dark sleeve. With speedbumps).
I waited.
And waited.
And turned up the TV a little bit.
Because, you know, I have wandering ears in the abode now.
And just when I thought it was safe ….
… I turned on the buzzy toy …
And someone who has no sense of propriety OPENED THE DOOR without knocking because a THOUGHT had occurred to them that seemed perfectly urgent enough to share at MIDNIGHT.
*growl grumble hiss*
Not to worry — once I screamed bloody fucking hell, the room was mine once again. (I had to live with the cat sitting there, looking at me, though. At least she doesn’t try to attack it anymore.)
And yes, I’m a happier fucking person right now, thanks to my widdle friend. But DAMN, what does a girl have to do to get a little quality time with her Bullet around these parts?!?!