Flood Pants While sitting here writing this entry, my pyjamas bottoms have worked their way half-way up my legs. This reminded me of something.

A woman I was seeing years ago mentioned that my pyjamas were too short for me. I never thought much of it since, really, who ever sees them but me? That woman turned out to be a conflicting personality that I had overlooked in my lustful trance. Several months later, I met another woman that I became deeply rooted in. At one point she mentioned the same thing about my pyjamas, that they were too small. Please, reader, keep in mind that "too small" doesn't mean much other than they rose slightly over my ankles. But yet, that was enough to have it pointed out twice.

Later in the course of our relationship, after she'd had more than her share of trivial quarrels, I finally noticed the incredible similarity between these two women. I hadn't noticed before because she kept herself more subdued. But when the dam burst, we drowned, and now it's hard to tell them apart.  ¶ 11:36 AM