pretend you have shutters and fling open your doors

Haven't done that in a while.

Pizza and a DVD on the couch with a nubile lover, whipping my ass, covering my nethers in cream and talking dirty to me.

Kidding.

But seriously. A day whereby my saving grace was curling up in the foetal position under my piano during lunch. Couldn't even string a sentence together yesterday.

Flung open the doors to my balcony like I owned Italy, and for the entire evening, thoroughly enjoyed one of the most thrilling, long thunderstorms Johannesburg has experienced this season.

All in lieu of the couch.

With The Castle on in the background.
(“See that lace on the corner of my house? It's fake. Adds a bit of Victoriania to the place don't you reckon?”)

A bit off the topic, but the person with whom I spent the evening knows a thing or two about snakes (not trousersnakes, the other snakes), which humbles even my knowledge of the slithering, venomous crazy-as-fuck creatures.
I'm terrified of snakes, so therefore I know my enemy – I know which snakes can do what to me, should they sink a set of fangs into my skin.

But I didn't know that the Puffadder stores venom just behind its fang, like a vile of always-releasing poison, ready to turn your hand into a gangrenous dead thing.

And the black mamba's neurotoxin won't only stop your diaphragm and therefore you asphyxiate and keel over and die, the poison stops your heart as well. So anti-venom is useless, it's better to have a lung respirator machine. Because that's convenient.

Fascinating.

Anyway, the thunderstorm transfixed me last night.

Also, gotta appreciate a dude who knows his cabling. Had DVD player issues, so he rewired my ...home entertainment system. There's nothing like a dude throwing out a, “No, your output cable needs to reroute through the RCA.”

Dude. Hubba hubba?

I mean, a dude who rewires shit/gets grease streaked across his face/knows how to hold a spanner/fiddles with electrical equipment/plays with machinery – well it's not a cack attribute. Let's face it.

I mean I'm all for changing my own lightbulbs. But hell men are hot when they do it instead.