The real point of shamanism*

Last night I came to bed late, to find my love asleep and warm, warm as newly buttered toast, though not as oily. I crept into bed, poor child of winter that I am, and cuddled up, though I dared not get too close for fear of inducing great banishing howls of abjuration:

'Jesuschristonabikewhatswrongwithyouhaveyouwashedyourhandsincoldwateryouarefreezingdon'teventhinkaboutputtingyourfeetonmybackwawawa...'

So rather than do that, I turned myself into an affectionate python and just coiled around his delicious bod, snuggling and curling into all the curves and angles of warmth, absorbing the heat and taking it back to my lair. When I got my legs back, I kicked my old skin out from under the duvet at the bottom of the bed. It is currently folded up in the laundry basket, so he'll never find it.

You can tell anyone you like. No-one will believe you.

I am so looking forward to this weekend. Hope yours is a blast!


*Apart from the psychotropic drugs and curiously fermented liquors of course.