-That private moment of peace you steal for yourself.
Daily, weekly, or monthly.... this is something selfishly hoarded by you, and you make no apologies to anyone afterwards.
As for me, I steal my little moments of zen-peace at least 2-3 times a week. Just last Wednesday for example, after a 16 hour day delivering product to Massachusetts.
Exhausted, I park my quiet little PT Cruiser in front of my home. This little car is much more docile than my old pick up truck, and much more economical. Quiet is important, because I can come home without alerting my "little slice of heaven".. (the Mrs)
I shut off the car and exit quietly, hoping to sneak into the house... this is going to be good.. It's hard to imagine but I have been looking forward to these 20 minutes alone, a good portion of my day.
With cat like reflexes, and ninja stealth skills, I head up the outdoor steps and promptly trip over a fucking plant pot. "Son of a bitch!" I think and kick the plant off into the hedges under the bay window.
I figure I am screwed now.. she must have heard that right? I wait a moment, and as I reach for the door handle, I can hear her in the backyard screaming at the dogs for something or another..
Awesome! I can still make it into the house, and up the stairs before she even knows I am home.
Now I make my move. Into the house and off with my boots. Without tripping on anything this time, I make it up the stairs, circle the banister, and head directly to the room I have been anticipating since leaving Boston... The bathroom... My safe haven. Let the Zen begin.
I place my android on the medicine chest, and tune to Pandora's "Solo Piano" station. It's important to set the mood. I don't think it matters how warm it is in the house, the toilet seat is always cold as hell. Must be some kind of latrine bylaw. I drop my pants and brace for the shock of bare ass cheek, to cold toilet seat contact. A quick mental flash of light later... and I settle in.
Further, and further, am I drifting away from the sound of my little slice of heaven screaming in the backyard at the dogs.
Now for some reading material... Whats good here...? Victoria's Secret? No. Those bitches just wanna give me a chubby, and I sure don't need one now. Flipping through the basket I find Boston Proper, some bikini catalogue, a pool supply magazine, and finally settle on my Harbor Freight Winter edition tool catalogue. Always nice to drool over tools I don't have yet.
I find my way to the lawn and garden section and drift off to fantasy... Thats right... It'll be hot this Summer, I'll have my shirt off and be working in the yard.. My neighbors smokin hot 20 something year old daughter, will ask me to help get her lawnmower started, and I'll follow her to the garage.. Boom -chicka Bow WOW!!...
Yeah right.. I could be her dad for one, she's a lesbian for two, and for three my churning gut reminds me that it's nearly time for splashdown, and certainly time to stop fantasizing.
I toss the catalogue back into the basket, and grip the side of the sink bracing for what is to come.. With Scott D. Davis pounding out "Sweet Child of Mine" on the piano, the first wave hits. It takes a bit of skill to govern the flow but I am practiced at this art.
It is at times like these I am glad I understand the basics of the Lamaze breathing technique. After all it wouldn't do to give myself a crude episiotomy.
Finally, I am finished. Winded, I sit there enjoying the afterglow of my own man-stench. There is a bottle of Glade on the back of the toilet but I won't use it... In fact, I bet I'll have the whole upstairs to myself for the next hour or so... Rising to my feet and cleaning up I glance down at my masterpiece... When the fuck did I have corn!!?
No matter I suppose. Another job well done, and truly one of my best personal moments of Zen-Peace. Aren't you glad I shared! *fuzzies*
Daily, weekly, or monthly.... this is something selfishly hoarded by you, and you make no apologies to anyone afterwards.
As for me, I steal my little moments of zen-peace at least 2-3 times a week. Just last Wednesday for example, after a 16 hour day delivering product to Massachusetts.
Exhausted, I park my quiet little PT Cruiser in front of my home. This little car is much more docile than my old pick up truck, and much more economical. Quiet is important, because I can come home without alerting my "little slice of heaven".. (the Mrs)
I shut off the car and exit quietly, hoping to sneak into the house... this is going to be good.. It's hard to imagine but I have been looking forward to these 20 minutes alone, a good portion of my day.
With cat like reflexes, and ninja stealth skills, I head up the outdoor steps and promptly trip over a fucking plant pot. "Son of a bitch!" I think and kick the plant off into the hedges under the bay window.
I figure I am screwed now.. she must have heard that right? I wait a moment, and as I reach for the door handle, I can hear her in the backyard screaming at the dogs for something or another..
Awesome! I can still make it into the house, and up the stairs before she even knows I am home.
Now I make my move. Into the house and off with my boots. Without tripping on anything this time, I make it up the stairs, circle the banister, and head directly to the room I have been anticipating since leaving Boston... The bathroom... My safe haven. Let the Zen begin.
I place my android on the medicine chest, and tune to Pandora's "Solo Piano" station. It's important to set the mood. I don't think it matters how warm it is in the house, the toilet seat is always cold as hell. Must be some kind of latrine bylaw. I drop my pants and brace for the shock of bare ass cheek, to cold toilet seat contact. A quick mental flash of light later... and I settle in.
Further, and further, am I drifting away from the sound of my little slice of heaven screaming in the backyard at the dogs.
Now for some reading material... Whats good here...? Victoria's Secret? No. Those bitches just wanna give me a chubby, and I sure don't need one now. Flipping through the basket I find Boston Proper, some bikini catalogue, a pool supply magazine, and finally settle on my Harbor Freight Winter edition tool catalogue. Always nice to drool over tools I don't have yet.
I find my way to the lawn and garden section and drift off to fantasy... Thats right... It'll be hot this Summer, I'll have my shirt off and be working in the yard.. My neighbors smokin hot 20 something year old daughter, will ask me to help get her lawnmower started, and I'll follow her to the garage.. Boom -chicka Bow WOW!!...
Yeah right.. I could be her dad for one, she's a lesbian for two, and for three my churning gut reminds me that it's nearly time for splashdown, and certainly time to stop fantasizing.
I toss the catalogue back into the basket, and grip the side of the sink bracing for what is to come.. With Scott D. Davis pounding out "Sweet Child of Mine" on the piano, the first wave hits. It takes a bit of skill to govern the flow but I am practiced at this art.
It is at times like these I am glad I understand the basics of the Lamaze breathing technique. After all it wouldn't do to give myself a crude episiotomy.
Finally, I am finished. Winded, I sit there enjoying the afterglow of my own man-stench. There is a bottle of Glade on the back of the toilet but I won't use it... In fact, I bet I'll have the whole upstairs to myself for the next hour or so... Rising to my feet and cleaning up I glance down at my masterpiece... When the fuck did I have corn!!?
No matter I suppose. Another job well done, and truly one of my best personal moments of Zen-Peace. Aren't you glad I shared! *fuzzies*
