the unshaved leg

so, here is a story of the unshaved leg.
that i realized had wrote itself, unknowling. well, forgottenling [yes, a word],
when i woke up this morning & sweet hubbs was on the far side of the bed.


it all started last sunday afternoon.
a nice, warm bath had been ran, overflowing with bubbles. soft music playing.
the set up was nice.
i go through the ritual of taking a bath.
shutting the bedroom door,
opening the closet door,
then shutting the bathroom door.
weird, but the bath just somehow feels cozier that way.
so, i undress. get in. aaaah. nice. exspecially after a hot, muggy weekend camping.
i get the shaver. and start my right leg. and just as i finish....the phone rings.
i jerk open the shower curtain. stumble for a towel to dry my hands...so i can get the phone.
i answer. its a call ive been waiting for, thus the production to get to it.
i tell them to hold on. i hop out. dry off. slip my robe on. & proceed to talk.
& it was then i proceeded to talk for hours.
hours past bedtime.
hours past the time i needed to finish the other leg.
then came tuesday; work. a busy day. home late. straight to bed.
wednesday came & went; full of errands & house work.
then there was thursday. a long work day. home late. bed.

so the hubbs this morning, informed me it warded off him.
the way we sleep. he kept feeling that leg.

i shower daily. lotion daily.
am i apparently this scatterbrained?


brilliant.
but its now apparent that our love for male face scruffies in no way equals the love for female leg scruffies.
both legs are now even.