Notte not so bianca

I am looking around me as if I were living in outer space. I always do this when I come out of some really heavy sleeping. I just stare and stare wanting to move but not being able to. Like some temporary paralysis. I hate this when it happens out of the norm's timetable. But I just cannot come to grabs with my sleeping habits. It's either no sleep at all, or some Sleeping Beauty sleep, the kind of you could sleep for a hundred years, and probably not even realise there's some prince kissing you awake. Well where are the princes anyway. Probably all at today's Notte Bianca. Perhaps if I were sure of this I would make the effort and go, but I'm not so sure of that either. My prince will be probably somewhere quiet, reading medical journals, dissertations and probably totally knackered after some really hard week's work. Or maybe he'd be watching CSI somewhere, he has to, I love CSI. Whatever and wherever he is, I will make sure he's no man in uniform. I hate uniforms, I never can understand why some women seem to have a penchant for white starched uniforms, So clinical, so not sexy. It's an old thing this, women swooning after the uniforms rather than the men wearing them. Well each to his own I suppose. It's good, they can have all the uniformed men they want, I'm just not interested. It leaves the rest of the man world for the taking. But I'm not sure I'm even interested in that either. I suppose I am a good candidate for on the couch therapy, but then even, I would keep my composure, never letting on to anyone as to how I really feel. And couches sometimes are uncomfortable, maybe they should be traded in for the Westin's Heavenly Beds. Now that would be really something, and I'd seriously consider it.