Naked Days

In my next life.

 Yesterday I stayed home and wandered around the house naked. I ate most of the food in the fridge, drank about a litre of bushera and watched The Tudors and In Treatment. I read a bit too, touched myself, fiddled with a broken camera, briefly perused the internets, took a dump and whiled the away the hours in idle contemplation of life, the universe and other things.

I like to take a day off once in  a while and spend it doing whatever I want and not hustling with any client demands, debtors, creditors, deadlines, blah blah blah. I remind myself that 'it's never that serious' that the world will go on whether I'm there or not and so I can spend some time being myself.

Naked days are tricky if you have a housemate but fortunately mine had run off to the village to check on his plantations and so I had the whole house to myself. As an added bonus, the cleaning lady had been by the day before, so the house was sparkling and I had no issue putting my balls and behind on the cool tiles, aaaaaah.

 There's a certain liberty to strolling around sans loin cloth, the proverbial going commando, it feels  a bit like floating, if you could become a feather or a dandelion and were carried and gently caressed by the wind. I'm afraid I cannot find a simile elaborate enough to explain the feeling, but I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, if not, I recommend it. Naked days are that and much more.

I wanted to say something about naked days, about how shamelessly looking at your naked self is good for your head, about not being afraid of it, about how much power it can give you but I find myself weighed down by all these cloths, my hands can hardly reach these keys. I can't wait for the next one to come round.

Try it out.