How long does it take for a laptop to burn someone’s legs?
What is that buzzy sensation upon my lap? No, it’s definitely electronic. Is it tights on the loose? No. It’s a suspicion that I may be frying something rather important, the consequences of which will only be revealed when I am old and grey in a room of her own, and nodding by Yeat’s fire.
Oh look, I was hoping to create something fabulous in my first post, because I have the second one all worked out. No S.P. S. (Second Post Syndrome) for this little Vegemite. As I sit here with a lovely green woollen Nepalese shawl swathed about my lower being, and perched on a faux-silk embroidered cushion which tilts toward the floor and drags my arse with it…. at 1.38 in the morning, Southern Hemispherical time, it’s all too Romantic with a capital R for words.
A Room of Heroine 