The past 3 days have shown me just how good I am at procrastinating, just how out of whack my priorities are, and just how little I seem to give a damn about physics.

Um, might I just ask: How good did Farmer Hoggett look in that last post? Goooood. Another chreemeh man fa yew!

You know I am not joking. That movie with Judy Dench and Cate Blanchett, where Cate sleeps with her 13 year old student (we saw it together!!) made me so very angry. If Bill Nighy is your husband, why why why why why why why would you ever cheat on him, especially just for purely physical relations? DREAMBOAT STATUS HUSBAND, HELLO. You don't stray from that, no matter how many 13 year olds are a-courtin' you.

Hmm. I am obviously not going to find my focus here.
On Thursday my boyfriend from the summer is sleeping over and, assuming we don't get to brawling, he's staying Friday, too. I don't know that we're going to do as rabbits do, though, because I really really hate having sex on my own bed. I'll sweep the floor and I'll make sure my desk's top is cleared, but I do not do not want my bed to be harmed.
It's always been hugely unappealing to me, the idea of having sex in the place where I am going to sleep. I like my bed to be my sanctuary, where I can dream lovely dreams and feel comfortable in my own, private space. Where I can engage fully in emotionally painful rumination, or where I can indulge in completely blissful fantasies. I like having sex in bed, I do, just not my own bed.

Look at this amazing bed, Float, by David Trubridge for Okooko. Do I like it for the frame, or do I just like the background? I can't really decide... but I know that I find it simply breathtaking.

In sex, people get sweaty, my hair ends up everywhere, sheets get damp and when they dry they never feel or smell exactly the same. Laundry becomes a pressing issue in my mind and, truthfully, I can only think of a select few individuals with whom sex is worth cleaning the sheets twice. While I've lived in Manhattan, I've only done it at my place a handful of times, only doing it on my own bed THRICE (well, three evening/morning combinations). In the house I grew up in, I have only had sex in my bed once and that was only because I knew I'd be stripping the bed anyway (I was moving back to the city) and the occasion really did call for it. If I am your girlfriend, we will be having sex and lots of it wherever the fuck you or I want. Except for my bed. Call me unconventional (or, more appropriately, call me a bad hostess, don't give a shit) but I think I'm just keeping it real. True Life: Most people are not worth changing the sheets for.

P.S. Sorry for the surly and/or overly-slutty and/or tipsy postings as of late. I will remedy this later on in the week with some lovely and inspiring photographs from my recent lab in Sterling Forest.

-Camille