It's a necessity.
'Among human societies the most advanced orgasmically are purported to be the women of Mangaia, a southern Cook Island in central Polynesia. Mangaian females reach orgasm two or three times during intercourse. Upon entering puberty, Mangaian boys go through a series of initiation rites into adulthood. Part of the initiation includes being instructed in methods of stimulating women to maximum sexual pleasure. Indeed, Mangaian women are expected to attain orgasm during intercourse each time; if not, the Mangaian man who fails to please her loses his status in the island's society. The Mangaians, with no semblance of a Puritan heritage, do not consider female sexual pleasure an indulgence. They consider it a necessity.'

Exactly.

I'm having squidginess withdrawal symptoms. They clearly prompt me to read about stuff like Polynesian societies; I suppose it's sublimation of a kind. On top of the lack of squidginess comes the fact that it's the time of year to prepare your hibernation chamber and snuggle up next to a hairy mate. If you're a bear, or an Alpine marmot, that is; if you're human, well you just carry on ignoring nature's cycles and haul your ass out of bed three hours before dawn and drink mixtures of fat sugar and caffeine to prop your eyelids open instead of snuggling. Not that I have anyone to snuggle with in the first place. So better forget about the Necessity of Orgasm and squidginess and snuggling and everything.

Crap I'm bored today. Or cranky. Or hungry. Or dehydrated. I can't always tell the difference. Perhaps it's the November syndrome. Time feels so flat; work for another four weeks, then go through Christmas like it's a meat grinder.
I do have moments of pure exhilaration, though.
Walking fast at night, messing up the neat heaps of dead leaves, enjoying having a body that can move fast through the crisp air. Faster, faster, through the deserted streets on the way home. I do wish I had some snuggling to look forward to, though.
Internet, friends, mom, I've gotta go. I'm having a craving for uncooked puff pastry. If cravings are supposed to be a way for your body to tell you what it's missing, I wonder what that one is supposed to mean. So, puff pastry ; then I might go out for a walk.There are heaps of leaves that need kicking out there.