I left my loves on the couch in front of the fire to take my evening shower. I cleaned up, blow-dried my hair, brushed it out, put the towel around my waist, and went to this room with the computer. I opened the drawer of the desk, and pulled out a satin lined, cherry wood box. I opened it, and looked at the tarnished torc, and equally tarnished omega pendant on a silver chain. The mullethead bought these for me long before we met. She never expected to meet me here, and it was a symbolic purchase.
I smiled, when I picked up the torc, and ran my fingers over the weaved design. It was Scottish, with thistles on the ends. It was meant to be a joke, though when she bought it, she knew I was Irish, and not Scottish.
I put it on. It almost fit. It was a little small, and the space between the ends was just a bit to much, but it was close enough so it didn't look funny to those who didn't know better. . .which was just about everyone in this country. Actually, I could get away with wearing it back home, but hey. I put the pendant on, too.
I went to the bedroom, dropped the towel on the bed, and looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad.
I got into a pair of skivvies, fresh, though well worn jeans with a few holes here and there, socks, and my black moccasin boots. If I went downstairs looking like this, I knew I'd be pounced on the second I walked through the door of the living room.
I did, and I was.
Why not make a good day a day beyond compare?
Make up for the fact Volume #4 wasn't up yet.
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