these days of leiderhosen

I have my own ugly recliner, an authentic LayZBoy. (Unofficially, this makes me a guy.) For the last 30 minutes I've been lying here in the recliner in the dark, listening to the sound of the traffic, the furnace and the snoring cat. The Steven came home surly from work in the virtual mines and after much coddling he sullenly headed to bed, so it's just me, the cat, and eight ounces of lonely merino. It could be worse. Much worse. The relative silence is nice. As this is a date with myself I went to the fridge and, like any faded old bombshell, whipped out the favorite Bulgari Tea Vert cologne and had myself a hit. Here I am: alone in the dark, in pajamas, looking at the ceiling, smelling fantastic. (This magic stuff is a direct call-back to sometime prior to the 20th century when fragrances became gender-specific. If Chandler Burr declares it sublime, who the hell am I to disagree? The link above is Burr's story to how this scent crept into this bottle and it's un