My reflection, (dirty mirror) there's no connection to myself

I have a list of books from my childhood that I want to re-read...but.. well.. most of them were read to me in class (Mrs Coats read us some brilliant books) and I’d go back to primary school just for Wednesday afternoon reading sessions. It's quite silly I know, but I truly love to be read to. If my Mum came up to me tonight and offered to read "James and the Giant Peach" –a book I vaguely remember being read when I was about 6 years old- (I loved Roald Dahl. I still do in fact. Seriously, who doesn't? "Puppy sodomizing murder's" you cry? No, I disagree, I'm sure at least some of them like him, too.) I would say "Do lets!" and would listen for as long as she wished to read.

*sigh*

I want somebody who loves me enough to read to me in this room, with a book, at this very moment. This is where having a 'significant other' could be handy. That and body warmth. My room has been so freezing lately that as I was dropping off to sleep a few nights ago I was making jokes in my head about hiring some random person to sleep in my bed and therefore keep it warm (but that's kind of creepy so I discounted it on the basis that I probably wouldn't sleep unless I trusted them).

Ok. Enough Of my creepy thoughts for one day, I'm going to go read to myself. Fare thee well!