Well shit.

Master wasn’t nearly as amused by that last post as I was.

Even if he did recognize the nugget of truth that permeated my friend’s situation, he still didn’t think it was funny. What can I say? He’s humorless, obviously.

At any rate, my friend did her chores because… well for lots of reason. Because she didn’t think the fall out was worth it. Because she knows her role is to obey regardless of what he’s doing. Because she was hoping to get to go somewhere and didn’t want that to be the reason he said no (she didn’t get to go anyway. boo!) Because manipulation is not really her style. Because forcing his hand doesn’t have the same satisfaction.

So, just because.

But…. bah humbug, you know?

I just don’t get some of it, though. I don’t need a list to help me keep the house clean. If it’s going to be up to me to clean the house, then let me do it my way, to my standards, on my schedule.

If it’s going to be cleaned to his standards on his schedule and his way, then enforce that. If he doesn’t care enough to see if I’m following his schedule then why make the schedule?

What am I missing here? I don’t even know.

And why do I buck so much? Jesus. I exhaust even myself. I am simply not happy giving in without a struggle of some sort. I hate hate HATE thinking I have an option so why do I keep fighting to find one? Ugh. I’d have kicked myself to the curb a long damn time ago. I’m too much WORK.

But then I don’t know why he gives me wiggle room, lol.

There was a thread on Fet the other day, loosely about reinforcing control but threads on Fet never stay on topic because first we have to argue the terminology, then we have to rush around declaring ourselves above the need for [whatever the topic is] because god forbid we indicate in any way whatsoever that we expect our doms to do ANYTHING.

I think I have more expectations than the average bear. :)

Anyway, so the thread was talking about how requests are worded, as in, commanding or asking or saying please and thank you, blah blah blah…

Leaving out his *choice* to talk to me however he wants to, I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have a preference for the phrasing or the tone he uses when he does talk to me. Does he always order me around like a Billy Bad Ass? Not at all. Do I obey either way? Yes. But does one way make me feel differently than another? You betcha.

My response in the thread was to say “if I wanted to be spoken to or treated like a vanilla wife, I’d have stayed with a vanilla man. I like being told what to do, and not because I’ve warped his request into an order. Words matter, tone matters, looks matter, actions matter. I get weary of having to search out the nuances of M/s. I like blatant, I like tangible, I like real.”

Which isn’t to say that it can’t be “real M/s” if he’s the politest motherfucker on the planet. It is simply to say that FOR ME, those little things matter.

In thinking over that particular topic, how he talks to me, I had to admit to myself that he mostly always orders me rather than requests things.

Later on in the same thread, some other examples were given on how to highlight control, sort of random acts of dominance. Some of the examples given were these:

a) right in the middle of a real laughfest, just stop dead, give her the eye and say “on your knees”.

b) Like, next time you’re walking through the house and she’s vacuuming or whatever, just bend her over the back of the couch, fuck the hell outta her (WITHOUT ALLOWING HER AN ORGASM), push her onto the floor and go on about your business like it never happened.

c) Like, every so often when she asks to use the restroom, say no.

And I had to admit that he does all of those, too.

So then I’m left here thinking, well shit, woman. What the fuck is it that you’re complaining about?

And now.. now I don’t know anymore.

Am I flitting about freely, leaving the house, shopping, spending money, making plans, seeing friends, doing whatever I want?

Um, no.

Do I still have to ask permission for everything? From eating to bathroom to showering to sleeping to walking out the door to get the mail?

Yes.

During my so-called rebellion of the last few days (wherein I didn’t actually do any rebelling but just whined about it) I had the thought that I’d just turn my phone off for a day.

Because that would be some serious rebelling, y’all.

The thing about the phone is that I *know* there is no wiggle room given to me about it. None. Zip. Zero. If I miss a call and I haven’t previously texted him something like “I’m going into my appointment now so I won’t be answering the phone for a few minutes” or whatever similar reason I have, then it is a BIG DEAL. I take the phone into the bathroom with me. I take the phone on my walks with the dog. I take the phone from room to room. I text him if I’m putting it on the charger because it’s dying and I’m going to be in another room doing chores. I text him when I’m getting in the shower because I can’t answer it when I’m wet. I text him if I’m going to sleep and he isn’t home. I let him know ANY reason I might have for possibly missing a call or text because if I don’t and I DO miss one, even if I later say “Sorry Master, I was sleeping” I’ll get busted for not telling him first AND for missing the call.

No wiggle room. No options.

So when I had that fleeting thought of rebelling by way of phone, I immediately (IMMEDIATELY) knew I would never. Not going there.

Just like I no longer try going to the bathroom without asking. I would never cut or change my hair without permission. I would never make plans for us without asking. I wouldn’t say “Suck it yourself” or refuse to spread my legs or not serve him his plate or not do his laundry or not make coffee or tell him no when given order

because there is no wiggle room.

On so many things.

Where do I come away from all of this feeling like I’m flapping in the breeze? That he’s dropped the leash?

Because he’s not beating me enough. He’s not playing Santa and checking the list twice, lol.

I’m really trying to figure myself out here.

Has it just become so routine that I’m just not feeling it so I need it to be ramped up and ramped up.. and if that’s the case, where would that stop?

Needy, needy bitch. Oy.

What Would You Do

I’m asking for a friend ~cough~.

Let’s say, for example, randomly, my ‘friend’ has been feeling rather…. neglected.

And let’s say that her SO has been told this and has nodded and seemed to have been listening.

And then let’s pretend that the SO left for work this morning and said something like “Get your chores done” when, during this previously “supposed and alleged” neglected period, the chores and follow through has been hit or miss.

But mostly miss.

In fact, 100% miss.

Would you, or would you not, be tempted to test the theory of follow through based on past instances of neglect?

Because I’m.. I mean, my FRIEND… is pretty tempted.

/end totally random internet poll

Furthermore

I had to end yesterday’s post before I was done yammering, and I haven’t had time to read the comments on it yet, but I wanted to post real quick to finish up by saying that in spite of all of my angsty bullshit things aren’t weird between us.

I mean, we’ve had some… interactions, for lack of a better word. But we’re not on the rocks, I’m not a miserable cunt, he’s not unhappy, it’s not tense or uncomfortable or anything.

Yesterday we had a date night. We went to a little dive of a movie theater that has a bar and grill right in it. We had a few drinks, ate some greasy bar sandwiches, and watched Guardians of the Galaxy at the same time. It was fun, we flirted, he inappropriately fondled me in my seat…

Today, we slept in, we went to the munch this afternoon, took the dog for a walk, and there’s a play party we’re going to tonight with some friends so I’ll likely get some action there. Maybe. If he’s in the mood lol.

And we’re talking about it all. The idea that we won’t come to some sort of fix is preposterous. We will. It might not be everything (or anything) I want but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hearing me out. Which is sometimes all I need anyway.

It’ll be whatever he wants it to be. If he wants that service slave, that’s what he’ll get. But if he wants me operating at my bestest, happiest, highest, functional slavey self, then he might have to give me a little of what I want, too.

That’s his choice. And I’m fine with him choosing, as long as I know that he’s aware of what I’m feeling or why I’m feeling it. Sadly, he rarely reads here anymore so I’ve actually got to talk to him these days. Like, using words and everything, like an adult does. Hmmph.

In the meantime, I’m writing. Yep. I’m gonna write a book. It’s giving me something to do. I’m 7,000 words into a rough draft. So y’all better buy it lol. You started it. ;-)

Perspective

Perspective seems to be a reoccurring theme for me. Maybe it is for everybody, though.

So things have been a little angsty here for me. Okay, they’ve been a lot angsty. And it’s all about perspective. Not only needing to switch mine about my own life- which I do (am? trying?)- but also for all of you to see me. Obviously the onus is on me to communicate clearly so that your perspective of me, or of what I’m saying, is accurate. That’s not always easy to do, though, because a lot of times I’m still figuring things out and if they aren’t clear to me there is no possible way to make them clear to anyone else.

Not to you, and, especially, not to Master.

I am not nearly as bright as people say I am, lol. It really does take me time to arrange what I feel into something I can say. I might know I’m not happy, and the reason why I’m not happy might be dancing around the fringes of my brain, but “just because!” isn’t effective communication by any means.

A lot of times, then, I come here. This is my safe place- to write, to fumble around, to put things in order and make sense of them.

Which is not to say that I’m dissatisfied with any feedback you all give me as I fumble and stare at my navel for days on end. Nothing could be further from the truth, actually. In fact, it is often times the comments and emails that come in here, from the supportive to the insulting, that guide me to clarity. For that I thank you. Sincerely.

And so, for the sake of clarity, this has been my perspective and the changes I’m working on.

Master has been home a lot. Not just “a lot more than he was before”, but A LOT. This new job of his affords him a lot of time off, with pay. A lot of time to be at home, doing whatever he wants to.

His old job was pretty much the exact opposite of that. He averaged 12 to 14 hour days, 5 to 7 days a week. He was on call all the time, constantly answering phone calls, troubleshooting, and always on edge, waiting for the “we need you back here right now” and never able to just relax. Not to mention the travel he did, which was frequent, though not constant. Enough though, that him calling me as he was driving home from work and saying “cunt, pack my suitcase. I have to leave as soon as I get home.” was not uncommon. When he was home, he was either sleeping or trying to unwind.

It was hard to make plans. It became impossible to look forward to things. Inevitably, he’d get called into work and plans would get cancelled. All. The. Time.

And then, of course, there were the kids still at home. There was Jes and the baby situation.

Long story short, there were a million reasons why kinky fun times weren’t a daily event. Or even a weekly event. It happened when it happened. But regardless of the activities, we kept things as constant as we could in the M/s department, and given that I absolutely understood the reasons why things were what they were, I feel like I kept the angst to a minimum.

(Shh. I did, too.)

Perspective, right?

Things couldn’t be all fantasy land bdsm then. Because reasons.

Reasons that we talked about, frequently. Reasons that we assured each other wouldn’t be there forever, that we just had to be patient, that this was life, and it was a GOOD life even though [...] because we kept our perspective.

And then.

Kind of out of the blue, he takes this new job. And he’s home. Like I said, a lot. This week, for example, he worked a half day on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and didn’t have to go in at all on Thursday or today. And he’ll be home all weekend, too. He’s not on call, either. At all.

That’s been typical of his schedule since he started this job. Since I got here.

The perk- he’s getting paid, either way. Hard to argue with that.

The trade off is that he WILL be travelling and when he travels it will be for longer amounts of time than the previous job. It’ll be anywhere from a week to a month at a time that he’ll be gone.

And the trade off for THAT is that when he gets home from his travel, he’ll be home (literally at home not having to go anywhere, even into the office at all) for equal the time he was in the field.

If he’s gone for 30 days straight on a job, then he sits home for 30 days straight.

*And he gets paid to sit home.

I mean, it’s pretty simple to see why he wanted to switch jobs, right?

The move, as you know, wasn’t quite as simple for me. Understanding why he wanted to change jobs didn’t magically erase the awful realities of what it meant to move away from my kids, to rehome my pets, to tell my friends goodbye, to put my (“my”, haha) house up for sale…

For example- it’s coming up on the holiday season. Thanksgiving, Christmas. I cannot bring Am or B-man here for both, or probably even for one of those holidays. Not only can they not get time off on those holidays, but even if they could, ticket prices are cuh-razy high around the holidays (the difference between booking Am’s ticket here in early November vs over Christmas? One thousand dollars. It is one thousand dollars more expensive to fly her here anytime between Dec. 10 and Jan. 10.)

We’re just not made of money. We still have bills, a mortgage on a house that hasn’t sold and rent here. Double utilities now, too. I mean, you know… we just can’t swing that expense and even if we could, they can’t come anyway. I could fly there- maybe- if we can swing the ticket, but then that leaves Master here alone for one or both holidays because we cannot afford 2 tickets, and neither can he, probably, take a holiday so soon at this new job- as lenient as they are on work hours, they still expect him to be here and not jetsetting across the country.

So what I know is that it’s very very likely that on Christmas and Thanksgiving, Am and B-man will up there in Michigan (where there is also no OTHER family of ours because when we moved there we left family behind) all alone.

Which only breaks my heart into a million billion thousand pieces. Because I’m a mom. They didn’t choose to leave me, I left them. Which is entirely different and sad and makes me feel guilty and awful and and and…

So, no. It wasn’t an easy move for me. But you know all that because I’ve detailed it. Multiple times. Poor poor me, right?

Because, bottom line, I *did* choose to move.

And we can go into all manner of discussion on ‘him Master, me slave’, so how much choice was there really, and while that is certainly a factor (A huge factor), someone will just back it up to ‘but you chose to be his slave so you still chose’ so let’s just skip that whole mess.

I chose.

I chose to leave them. And while that doesn’t make things any easier to deal with (might even make it worse, honestly) it does seem to mean that I don’t have the “right” to whine about it.

Okay fine.

I’ll leave that alone for now.

Instead let’s examine some of the other things that made me “choose” to move.

If I can quote myself (and I can because it’s my blog): there were a million reasons why kinky fun times weren’t a daily event. Or even a weekly event. It happened when it happened. Things couldn’t be all fantasy land bdsm then. Because reasons. Reasons that we talked about, frequently. Reasons that we assured each other wouldn’t be there forever, that we just had to be patient, that this was life…

THAT had been my reality for years. Waiting.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was the kids, it was time, it was energy, it was work, it was this and that and blah blah blah.

But then.

THIS… this “just me and you baby, and all the time in the world” was the carrot he dangled under my nose when I got all angsty about moving.

And this post . Those messages, the implied “yes, cunt, get your hopes up because finally..”

This thing we’d been waiting for. The fantasy life.

Or, at least, the thing I’d been waiting for. MY fantasy life.

What HAS he been doing?

Basking.

lol. That’s the best way to put it. Basking in all the time he has to do whatever the fuck he wants.

He’s relaxed. He’s happy. He’s chill.

Chiller than I’ve seen him in a long time.

It’s just that… doing whatever the fuck he wants doesn’t include me very often.

Relaxing gets boring.

I’m not happy.

There’s nothing kinky about being chill.

He’s all about the service. He’s a service loving motherfucker. I can cook and clean and give him massages and wash his back and trim his toenails. I can fetch beer and water and refill drinks and get up to get the remote that is 3 inches out of his reach.

Um… that’s really REALLY not my fantasy kink life. Mmkay?

God knows I have been trying to keep my perspective right and proper and focused. If I got 5 minutes of kink out of a 24 hour period, I lapped that up and soaked it in and blogged about that instead of the 23 hours and 55 minutes where I didn’t.

And I tried to be HAPPY with it.

I’m still trying to be happy with it.

Because maybe it’s not even 5 minutes. Maybe it’s zero minutes. Maybe it’s 3 days and I don’t think he’s noticed I’m alive. Maybe it’s 6 days since i’ve followed the rules and he’s still happily ‘living his dream’.

Maybe it’s a whole fucking lot like what it was before we moved when I still had my kids and my pets and my house and my friends and no guilt only instead of there being a seemingly legitimate reason why I can’t have it all, there is no reason that makes sense to me.

And maybe I can’t remember quite why I “chose” to move.

And maybe then.. I start to get resentful and sad and irritable.

Of course then I feel guilty. Because I am a slave, and at heart I’m a mostly good one (with a few hiccups here and there lol) and I really do want him to be happy above all else and I am– really — trying here.

Because I am also still a human being, with my own wants and needs and my own emotions, as rational (or not) that they may be.

I am not a martyr. I am not selfless. And above all, I am not not NOT a service oriented slave. That has never ever been my currency and it never will be. I can very quickly start to feel like a free maid service if, along the way, I’m not getting something else. And that makes me go all hulk-smash. Because I’m HUMAN.

I am also NOT trying to rain on his parade. Which I know doesn’t seem to come across here very well, but I’m sincerely not. When I’m not whining about things here, I’m cooking and cleaning and serving- and trying to figure things out.

But this is my life, too. My future, my happiness. I need some things from him. I can, and have been, the world’s happiest free maid service if there is some control and pain and wickedness sprinkled on top. I don’t think I’m asking for that much- considering what I’ve sacrificed to try and get it.

And I still think that’s his JOB. He has a part in this, too. Give me all the lectures you want but I don’t agree that just because he’s the Boss, he doesn’t have a responsibility here, the same as I do.

So that’s kind of where things are right now.

He’s not omnipotent. Sometimes he just doesn’t realize. He doesn’t see.

He’s also not opposed to making me happy. Lucky for me.

He’s not even afraid to admit that he might have fucked up.

And.. even more lucky for me.. he’s not opposed to taking steps to correct it.

Being facefucked hard enough to give me a bloody nose is a good start. :)

IMG_3310

So this probably reads like a long ranty diatribe, and in a way I suppose it is, but that’s not my intention.

It’s actually about finding clarity, about realizing why I was disgruntled here even though on the surface I should have been ecstatic.

It’s about honesty. It’s about reality. It’s about making it work. It’s about both of us wanting the other to be happy, even at great personal sacrifice. It’s about love.

And.. it’s about perspective.

Can I be a good slave without that sprinkle of control and pain? I can.

Do I want to be? Not if I get a say in it, no.

Existential Question-

-of the Day:

If you’re willing to do everything, but you never get to do anything…

…how does that make you feel about those who DO get to do everything? How does it make you feel about yourself?

Weak? Suck it.

I say that anybody who says submissive women are weak has never had to stand still, face uplifted, arms hanging loose at their sides, and get slapped hard across the face. Repeatedly.

No cringing, no resisting, no ducking, no smacking back (wha..? you know you think it, liar.)

I don’t feel particularly weak lifting my head back up for the next blow.

Sorry to disappoint, internet troll. :)

Babbling

The menu list for this week, in no particular order:

1. Salmon/steamed asparagus/grilled watermelon salad with honey-lemon vinaigrette
2. Beer battered pollock chunks with tartar sauce/sweet potato fries/kale and craisin salad with poppyseed dressing
3. Quinoa and black bean stuffed portabello mushrooms/roasted brussel sprouts and carrots/chopped watermelon
4. Bean chili/raw veggies with greek yogurt dill dip
5. Zuchini and spinach lasagna/side salad
6. Chef salad/sliced strawberries `
7. Roast chicken/mashed cauliflower/green beans
8. Chicken (from the leftover roast chicken) and Wild rice soup/apple-sunflower seed leafy green salad with raspberry vinaigrette

My shopping list, minus what I already have. I follow the Clean 15, Dirty Dozen list when I buy fruits and vegetables:

Asparagus
Carrots
celery
iceberg lettuce
Cauliflower – 3
brussel sprouts
green beans
2 green peppers
spinach – frozen
Cucumbers – 2
Grape tomatoes
Broccoli
avocado
Romaine
flat leaf kale
kale/spinach mix
red onion – 2
leafy spring mix
sugar snap peas

watermelon
lemons
limes
blueberries
strawberries
Bananas

Salmon fillet, wild caught
Turkey- small breast
Bacon

Eggs
Parmesan (not powder)
mozzarella
cheddar
feta cheese
small plain greek yogurt
low fat ricotta
Almond milk
half n half

Can of black beans
2 cans tomato paste
16 oz tom sauce
wild rice
cider vinegar
dijon mustard
raspberry vinaigrette

~~*~~

Still giving lots of thought to the last post and the comments. Making my plan of attack, so to speak.

I realized, in some things anyway, that I had lowered my standards to meet his, while simultaneously being dissatisfied that he wasn’t meeting mine. Does that make sense? Let’s take cleaning as an example. His standards of cleanliness are pretty minimal. He can walk into a room and say “Oh, this looks nice. Good job.” and I follow behind him and immediately see 10 things that are out of place, need dusted, aren’t perfect. Instead of just cleaning it to my satisfaction, I clean it to his and when he approves, I’m disgruntled.

That seems to have applied itself to more than housecleaning, and I don’t know quite how I got into that sort of backward thinking, but I am working on fixing that. Like I said in a reply to one of the comments, just because he doesn’t tell me to do more doesn’t mean I can’t do more.

I’m too fixated on the external validation, from him. In this case, I almost think making everything about him has backfired. If he doesn’t care, I don’t care- and I should.

Perhaps? I don’t know. Am I way off base, do you think? If he doesn’t care, *should* I care, or is that an example of me shifting away from him?

Argh. I can seriously talk myself into circles on this. Honestly.

~~*~~

I really am leaning toward writing. Writing something. I don’t know what. I don’t know how to get started- beyond the writing part, I mean. The publishing/marketing/etc. stuff. That’s really intimidating.

I’m afraid to fail. That’s really the bottom line. If I never try, I can’t say I failed.

My mom had that same attitude about her artwork. She is (or was, I guess, before her eyesight and hand coordination started to fail with age) an amazingly talented artist. Oil painting, free hand, pencil, sketching, landscapes, portraits… She made some really beautiful stuff. Everyone encouraged her to get it out there, start going to craft fairs, and she never would. She never believed she was good enough.

I don’t know if I’m following in her footsteps or if I’m just being realistic. Too much ego or not enough?

~~*~~

So, Jes is really freaking out over this ISIS stuff because of the rumors about an attack in Jaurez/El Paso. Which is where she lives, obviously. I told her if she was worried to come here. Like I’d pass up any reason to have my babies again. I don’t think she needs to worry, but if it makes her feel safer to get herself and her kids away from there for awhile, well then come on down!

Anytime talk in the news is centered on things like that I get a little freaked out myself. For my son, my son-in-law… No matter how often you’re told that we aren’t going to get involved, I know how quickly that can change. So it worries me, of course.

It’s hard to believe that my Babygirl has started kindergarten, and Babygirl 2.0 is having a birthday (she’ll be 2) in just 2 days. (That’s a lot of 2′s). As always I spent too much but that’s Master’s fault, right? Right. I mean, if every purchase needs his approval and he didn’t pull the plug then it’s his doing. Good deal. I am absolved ~cough~.

Apparently, things are all set and in motion for Jes and her husband and kids to go to Germany this next March for 3 years. I’m still not convinced it will happen. It just seems like there is any number of things that can change that between now and then. Truthfully though, if something does happen and they can’t go, I’ll feel very badly. Jes is SO excited about it, she talks about it all the time, she’s always wanted to go to Europe, she’s already making plans and figuring out what she needs to do for packing, and Babygirl’s schooling, and the flight plans… she’s just really excited and she’ll be devastated if it’s cancelled.

I can’t imagine what it will be like to have them be so far away. They’re far away now but if wanted to, I could totes be there in a day and it wouldn’t cost much. Tickets to Germany are a pretty penny. :-(

Otherwise, things are okay. I hung up some stuff on the walls finally so it feels a little more like home, and less like a hotel room. We had guests for dinner last weekend, and that was fun. I cooked too much food, as you do, but the wine was good and they brought rum and a beautiful flower arrangement- which is still blooming and looking gorgeous.

I still have piles of stuff I don’t know what to do with, though. Nothing fits the same way it did before. But we got lots of new stuff that fits perfectly. We got this huge HUGE couch, and new giant tv to match the huge couch. We got a beautiful liquor and wine cabinet (because we’re grown ups now, dontcha know) and a week later went back to the furniture store and bought the matching sideboard because I loved it and I wanted it on the one long wall and it looks great. I have Jes’s family portrait, Am’s graduation photo, B-man’s army portrait, a picture of the three granddaughters and a family photo from Jes’s wedding sitting on it, and I found this big, kind of ugly but wonderful metal tree sculpture that I hung on the wall above the table because it’s all Family Tree-like and I don’t care what Martha Stewart would say about my interior design aesthetic. She’s a convict anyway. ;)

It’s definitely been a little different, setting up house without kids in mind. We’ve gotten pretty lax about walking around naked, leaving toys lie around, not trying to hide the obvious signs of sex and debauchery, not watching what we say or how loudly we say it. Him hollering across the house “Cunt! Get me a beer!” or me hollering up the stairs “Master! Can I go to the bathroom please?!” and I just know that one of us is going to slip up when we have company. We’ve lost our filters.

Gracie seems to be adjusting- finally. She did end up with a demodex flare up, something she does now and then, and with the stress of the move and the loss of her friend, it triggered a bad one. She’s been going for medicated dips for the last month but is looking good. This next dip should be her last if her skin scraping is clear.

Her condition, and the frequency with which it reoccurs and the expense of treating it (it’s 80 bucks a dip and the course generally runs 6 to 8 weeks, sometimes only needing a dip every 2 weeks, sometimes once a week. Not to mention the skin scrapings I have done every time I see a red spot or hair loss or see her obsessively licking her feet, because the sooner you catch it, the easier it is to treat so I don’t fuck around) is one of the main reasons why, when I had to choose one dog over the other, I chose Gracie over Trusty.

Gracie is an expensive, high maintenance dog. I just felt her chances of being well placed were much slimmer. She’s probably going to be put on a special diet for food allergies. She needs bathed at least twice a week, with a medicated pricey shampoo because she gets so yeasty. And she’s a pitbull. Pitbulls are hard to place.

Plus, I took the weather into account. Trusty loves loves loves the snow. He’s a husky. He’d rather be outside than in, especially when it’s cold. On the flip side, Gracie haaaaaaaaaaaaaated the cold. I had to shove her outside to take a quick potty break when it got cold. So it just didn’t make sense to leave Gracie in the arctic circle and bring Trusty to the fucking humid equator.

Anyway. I don’t even know why I’m babbling about that. Guilt, I guess, and trying to assuage it. Gracie mourned the loss of her friend for a long time. She’s just now starting to show interest in her toys again, and will run around the yard a little bit if we play with her. From what I hear, Trusty is fairing well in his new home.

Am is coming to visit! Not until November, but still. It’s something to look forward to. The ticket is bought, she’ll be here for about 10 days, and I’m really excited. I miss her. I’m excited to show her around the city. It’ll be fun.

I fully expect she’ll want to move here at some point. I’d be surprised if she didn’t. She’s just not one to live so far away from me, I don’t think. It won’t be in the immediate future, but unless she got into a relationship or had some other reason to keep her away from here, she’ll end up here. Mark my words. Master won’t allow her to live with us, just long enough to find a job and a place or whatever.

I’m not sure what B-man will do. Long term anyway. I still have massive amounts of guilt over leaving him. He’s too young, he wasn’t ready. He seems a little lost and a lot overwhelmed when I talk to him, if also pretty damn pleased with all his freedom, but I wish I was there to help him stay the course a little more. He hasn’t found a job yet, outside of his Reserves responsibilities. He’s coasting on the chunk of money he got from Basic and his 30 day stint in Canada. He doesn’t have a lot of bills, beyond rent and food and gas, but he needs to find something before his account runs out. He just seems a little intimidated by the process of job hunting and is making very slow progress. It IS progress, and I call him pretty often to prod him onto the next step which he will usually do, so I’m grateful for that at least. I just wish I was there. I feel like he feels abandoned, and probably rightfully so.

I just don’t think we were very fair, to him in particular. That makes me feel bad. And, if I’m going to be completely honest, I have a little resentment toward M for it. :/

Well. I am just a babbling fool today. I’m avoiding those dishes in the kitchen.

“Wash dishes by hand”. Hahaha! That’s crazy talk right there, Raie. ;)

Comparison is the thief of joy

I’ve been spending the last little while working to align myself with Master.

One might think I had done that already. After all, we’ve been doing this for 10 years.

What I’ve discovered, and perhaps this is not new news to others but is only news to me, is that each time we have a lifestyle change, it feels a little like being brand new all over again.

I don’t mean lifestyle in the M/s sense, but lifestyle as in the circumstances of our actual way of living.

I came here with 10 years of expectations of what it would be like when we were finally living in an empty nest. And, apparently, in the meanwhile, he’d decided on what he actually likes and wants, and rejected everything else.

And while that particular concept isn’t new, not even to me – the poster child for slow learners everywhere – it has still been an adjustment to get my head and heart on his page.

I’m getting there, slow but sure. I’m letting go of frustrations and resentments, and working into resignation.

A friend on Fetlife wrote a great piece on resignation the other day. It was a timely bit of writing for me as I felt I was finally accepting (read: resigning myself to) his way. The writing, if you don’t or can’t read it, is about how resignation is seen by some as a negative place to be, but for some of us, it’s not. It’s the first step toward finding the positive outcome that our Owners are after.

So, yes, I’m getting there. As she detailed in her post, the path seems to follow this: After resignation comes acceptance. After acceptance comes surrender. After surrender comes peace.

Some of you might be wondering what I could possibly have to be disgruntled about in the first place, given the various things I’ve posted lately. I mean, it certainly does sound like he’s on his game, doesn’t it?

He is. He is on HIS game. And it’s great. For him.

It’s just… when he moved me down here, every other thing I had in my life that took up my time and energy, every distraction I had… is gone. From my kids to my friends to my animals to my hobbies to my future plans- and all I have to focus on is him. My routine is entirely different.

But for him, nothing has really changed. All of his outside-of-me interests are still there. He still has work. He still has his hobbies. His routine hasn’t changed a whole lot.

Indeed I had a lot of expectations on what that would be like. And this… what it actually is… isn’t it.

I need to channel my constant neediness into something else. He’s already vetoed my request to go back to work, which I pretty much expected, and I understand why. My being at work, and thus not here at his beck and call 24 hours a day, doesn’t jive with his wants and needs. I’m not trying to upset his perfect fantasy. I think should he ever get to the point of telling me to get a job for any reason other than a dire financial need, it would be because I’ve become a thorn in his side and he’s irritated enough to choose getting rid of it and giving up his dream-come-true which would be.. woah.. huge failure on my part so, no. That’s not where I want to go.

That he denied my request to get a job was really affirmation that I haven’t crossed that line and it was a relief. But… and here’s a big but… he considered it. I could see he was weighing the pros and cons and that was a real eye opener for me.

I need to get myself together.

So I have, over the last couple of days, tried to throw myself into being the best M’s-dream-slave that I can be, because I certainly know how, I know exactly what he wants and what he expects, the last 10 years haven’t been for nothing, and have embraced quiet resignation. I have a clear view, now, of acceptance. It’s just around the corner, the next step on the path.

I will find something to channel my neediness into, something that doesn’t come at the cost of him having to change anything. Something that will, preferably, make me of better service and better use. I have a few ideas but I’m open to suggestions. It never hurts to hear a fresh perspective.

Succint

I jumped when he suddenly smacked his boot down on something skittering across the floor.

“Ew! What was that?” I asked.

He shrugged, calmly slipping his foot into his boot. “I don’t know. I smack first and ask questions later.”

Yes, well. That about sums up my life, doesn’t it?

;-)

Better to remain silent and be thought to be disrespectful…

…than to speak out and get your ass in trouble.

Amirite or amirite?

Such was my thought when he’d hollered the 8 millionth request from the other room and I chose not to respond since I probably wasn’t going to do it with very much grace but to just quietly set about obeying it, and when he repeated the request before I’d finished, I said “Yes Sir, I heard you.”

…and then he said “Well I didn’t hear YOU, cunt” and I said “Because I didn’t say anything” and he said “Why is that?” and I said “Because what else would my answer be, Sir? ‘No’? ‘Get it your damn self’? Or probably the predictable bit of me just doing what you instructed, hmm?”

You see? I should have remained silent.

I told ya so.