I wake-up in the morning... usually, after I have finally strangled the clock-radio, and really, who needs to have Italian DJ allegria at 7:05 AM, hmmm?... thinking about il Poggiolo and I go to sleep... normally, around 1 in the morning & after massive quantities of white OR red wine... thinking about it still.
The other person involved in this adventure... who has fervently asked to remain anonymous... the lucky bastard... used to complain that we mostly talked about The Dog. Oh, my! Long gone are those Life & Times. We did occasionally intercept The Dog Discussion with other Pursuits & Arguments... movies, dinner parties, cultural excursions out of town & political rants against Silvio Berlusconi, a genius for getting on everyone's nerves here. Our mutual burden was considerably lighter. Now, it's Codiponte and nothing else. It is The Obsession which unites us. It weighs a frigging ton.
Naturally, and as one might surmise, this singular Obsession is not good for SEX. How can one be in the mood, while mentally compiling new items for a Punch List, much less focus on Kissing & Stuff, if one must think how to program the cleaning-lady in between the painters & electricians, whose schedules varies as the winds do? And, anything beyond superficial Petting & Stroking is out of the question, when one's thoughts automatically steer towards the financial, a sure blow to arousal, if ever one was invented. Little did I think unannounced Celibacy would be My Destiny when I bought a farm house in a out-of-the-way corner of Tuscany called the Lunigiana. Neither did the other guy. Gads.
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