Why stop with bedrooms Mara? There's the kitchen, the Living Room, the Dining Room, the bathroom, attic, basement, back yard, roof....
Why! The possibilites are endless.
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"Hell begins on the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts which we have wasted, of all that we might have done which we did not do" ~~Gian Carlo Menotti~~
Hmm... thanks Doc, the image of three NICs in my three beds improved my mood instantly... I can totally picture myself going from bedroom to bedroom on a passionate loving spree... and that´s HARD WORK... LOL!
who have a mood for work today? There is foggy, rainy wheather outside, and the best place where to be is bed, bed, bed. The better yould be in bed with NIC, NIC, NIC - I mean to stay in bed, read a books, journals, watching TV, preparing something for snacks, o no, call for pizza from bed, and have a lazy day - i mean nothing naughty.LOL
Lets go, mara, improve your mood, or I will call you every morning to start u UP. This is a threat: LOL jenn
LOL! How very fitting to fit your mood! I love it!
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"Hell begins on the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts which we have wasted, of all that we might have done which we did not do" ~~Gian Carlo Menotti~~
That´s my current mood (minus the unrequited love part, LOL), I´m simply not in the mood to work... Not a great tragedy really...
To illustrate the point: Edith Piaf´s song "Je ne veux pas travailler" (= I don´t want to work), cover by Pink Martini. I´ve always enjoyed this song, that´s become a hymn for the procastinators like myself, LOL
If you´re curious about the lyrics, there´s a rough translation below.
Ma chambre a la forme d'une cage, le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre. Les chasseurs à ma porte comme les petits soldats qui veulent me prendre.
Je ne veux pas travailler, je ne veux pas déjeuner, je veux seulement l'oublier et puis je fume...
Dejà j'ai connu le parfum de l'amour, un million de roses n'embaumerait pas autant. Maintenant une seule fleur dans mes entourages me rend malade.
Je ne veux pas travailler, je ne veux pas djeuner, je veux seulement l'oublier et puis je fume...
Je ne suis pas fière de ça, cette vie qui veut me tuer. C'est magnifique, trés sympathique, mais je ne le connais jamais.
Je ne veux pas travailler, je ne veux pas djeuner, je veux seulement l'oublier et puis je fume...
Loose translation:
My room is like a cage The sun passes his arm by the window, the hunters are at my door like little soldiers who want to take me away.
I don't want to work, I don't want to lunch I only want to forget him and so I smoke.
Long ago I knew the smell of love, a million roses didn't smell as sweet. Now the proximity of a single flower makes me sick.
Chorus
I am not proud of this life that wants to kill me. It's wonderful to be likeable
