Hives are not just for bees...

Honey,
So there I was cozying up to my darling Ana Karenina, and as my eyes drifted down towards her sultry pages I noted a rapidly spreading redness across my chest. Perhaps lust, longing, or even a touch of lasciviousness? No my petal, a common, everyday, purely pedantic allergy. To what? My mind raced over the fountains of gin, shiraz and single malt...perhaps...no...no..it couldn't be...an allergy to alcohol!? Oh, fie! Fie you wretched gods! Five wee slumbers until all-inclusive Mexican glory, only to be thwarted by my own penchant for 151 proof gin? No! I will not allow it. I will NOT be denied the unparalleled divinity of swim-up bars.
I tore back the covers and threw up the sash, "I will go on!" I cried into the darkness. "I will not be put down by The Man. Be he Captain Morgan or Johnny Walker!" And in the immortal words of Her Highness Gloria Gaynor I concluded with the apt flourish..."I WILL SURVIVE!"

Then my dear Rosamond came into the room and asked ever so sweetly if I liked the smell of the new laundry detergent she had used?

Ah, the gods are a kind and just motley crew. Gin- IN, Sunlight Meadow Fresh- OUT.
Nothing will keep my gorgeousness away from those swim-up bars.

Write when you get work,
Divine Miss.Creant