hypermammiferous

I wear things and then I realize that I don’t ever want to wear them again and then I put them in the donations pile. It’s an ongoing process, really.
Sometimes my own retardation amazes even me.
Serious.
My boobs are now a shadow of their former milk-producing days. It is quite sad, really. Or not. Scott says he doesn’t care… so.
I’ve been feeling a lot like typing lately.
I think that the ocd trait I have of always ‘writing’ things in the air with my finger is a psychosomatic symptom of my suppressed desire to express myself in writing.