Sex and chocolate

I've been at a loose end for days now, which is the downside of finishing the first draft of my gothic horror novella.

I have achieve a Quentin Crisp-like state of grace in respect of the housework. The laundry basket is overflowing. We have nowhere to put up a christmas tree because of the crap I've allowed the family to accumulate (see previous post, for some elucidation).

I should be washing, ironing, dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing & etc not to mention having unbridled (or even bridled) sex with the college student we recently employed to work part time (and I ain't giving up my Saturday shift any time soon, let me tell you!).

However, something more important than all this - only speculatively not including the last which is only a pipe dream after all, while the rest is semi-obligatory - is on the agenda. It is the time for truffle making.

Once I've got all these annoying little thoughtlets out of my head (except perhaps the one about Tom) I shall start with the chocolates. Much easier than buying presents for people. And I can drink any left over rum, cointreau, chivas regal & etc. Not to mention eat the samples.

I might hate this time of year but it is not without compensations. All of which leads me right back to Tom and my current pet daydream. Mmmmn Sex and Chocolate