I am listening to Schubert and about to start mending old dresses and replacing patches on coats and sweaters with betters. The sky is gray, thick, and daunting--the perfect weather for stitches and macabre but maudlin violins and, later on, Alfred Hitchcock's Rope
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As much as I like snuggling, spooning always makes me flinchy. I never know where to hug.
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My snuggle buddy is good good good. He's the best spooner I've ever met. And plus, I'm usually the spoonee rather than the spooner, which makes things better. As spooner, I sometimes dont know what to do with my arm that's closest to the bed. I certainly prefer my status as spoonee (c:
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Maybe it's like wearing pants without pockets, where does one put their hands?
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