(So, as someone with dreams of working with children one day, I take a significant amount of care in making sure I don't broadcast anything to the masses that might scar a blossoming young mind. There is some understated sexiness in this post that could be sensitive for young viewers. If you ARE a young viewer - and I mean under the age of 16, where you have no business thinking sexy thoughts... You young-at-heart leches can have all the thoughts you want. I know I certainly do. - I know the knowledge that you shouldn't makes you want to read ahead all the more. Please try to resist, if only with the understanding that your body posture changes when you're doing something you shouldn't, and your parents *will* catch you. Yeah, I might be fibbing... But do you really want to risk having your Intarwebs taken away for one measly blog post?)
Okay. That's done. Onward.
I've always wanted to wear a flowy dress and walk out into a river. In my mind, there is something enthralling about the thought of the soft fabric drifting around me as I lay still in the rushing water. Then, of course, there's the sensuous post-river idea of damp, clinging fabric on a female form. But… and this is a BIG but… what about that awkward moment in the middle - before you reach the slightly-dried state for optimum damp-and-clinginess - when you have to put yourself to rights and get *out* of the river, muddy about the posterior and dripping like a poorly plumbed faucet? Yup, stops me every time.
Yes, this was the thought I woke up to this morning. Poetical, I know... And somewhat disturbing. (However, much more pleasant than the dream which caused me to wake up in the first place: A disembodied head taking control of my laundry - most notably, my recently-cleaned-red-bra-
But it's true. Think about it - you must have encountered, somewhere within your searching of the vast wide intarwebs, some picture or video where a beautiful young woman in a beautiful dress lays thoughtfully in the water, pondering life and looking artsy while the water flows gently by...
(And not at all looking confused as to why she's wearing a white dress in a river.)
And if you encountered this, you must also have encountered the half-dry woman sunning herself on a rock looking just as clean as before she went into the water, but with the appropriate sogginess to suggest that this is not at all an orchestrated, pre-river-walk sunning.
(And not at all looking exerted for the work it must have been to fly vertically up and out of the water in order to avoid getting dirty.)
So what caused this strange, random and slightly awkward-to-consider thought? (The damp-and-clingy one... Not the cranial conundrum one...)
Work.
Yup, it was my office that made me do it.
See, I sit in this tiny little cubicle all day.
(Okay, so it's not tiny. And it's not exactly a cubicle. I have half walls that encase the three hundred square feet which could arguably be called "Mine." But it's confining, because I can see outside to all that I'm missing and really, nothing in here is sacred. Seriously. An EngineerFriend just leaned over my cube wall and "borrowed" my stapler, making his request by way of staring me down and daring me to speak against him. And now he's walked away with it. Ballsy little bugger.)
And it's boring.
(Okay, so it's not as boring as I make it sound. There are things to do if I wanted to get off my sphincter and take care of them. I could clean... Or process my never-ending pile of invoices... Or file something... Whee.)
And in not-so-Tiny-and-Boring Land, there is but one cure for what ails me:
Music.
(We've talked about this before. Don't tell me you're surprised.)
Sometimes it comes through my radio. Sometimes it's only in my brain. And sometimes it streams through my computer speakers, directly from an internet link to YouTube.
It is with the latter that I find myself most smitten recently.
Most notably, I have been listening to songs that involve music videos in which a young lady wears a pretty dress into a river and lays down.
And then, as if by magic she is suddenly lounging on the riverbank, beautifully damp and clingy but without a hint of the muck and mud that has inevitably been stirred beneath her by her swirling skirt.
Yeah, right. That's realistic. Almost as realistic as me getting off my lazy tuckus and dealing with the filing. (Ha!)
No, it's more as though a crane lifted her from her watery-ness and set her gently on the sidelines... or a prop guy with a spray bottle had his way her.
Which would serve her right, the little soggy liar. I hope it was cold.
But despite the false claims, I still find myself drawn to the artistry of the image, and wondering what it would be like to wear That Dress and be That Girl...
Although maybe not at work.
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