So I took a few minutes during my closet/dresser clearing maelstrom to switch the laundry to the dryer and put in a new load. The microwave (which is, as we know, the closest I come to cooking) was chugging along with the nummy scent of roast beef and mashed potatoes.

I was decked out in a pair of the husband's Army sweat pants and an old Varney's sweatshirt and some big ol' socks, humming as I worked.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks and I panicked.

"OMG - I'm a housewife!"

The cats stared at me. I stared back.

"Oh, no, I write porn. It's okay."

And then I went back to my cleaning.
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From: [personal profile] beeform


And, can I just say that I still LOVE my Happy Bunny slippers (your icon prompted this)? 'twas a great gift... I wear them all winter! :-)

From: [identity profile] kauricat.livejournal.com


Crack me UP!

Someone should quote you again, but I don't want to be a meta-hog.

Dang it; that's going to be in my head all day and I can't tell anyone at work because they won't get the funneh. :)

From: [identity profile] grandpoohbah.livejournal.com


Ya, housewives READ porn, not write it. Speaking of Happy Bunny, mommy's found her new motto, "I'm not mean, you're just a sissy."
.

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