Good Morning, Sleepyheads!

Speaking of mornings:

I want this . I want it BAD. I want it now. Add big, mean-looking locks to the outside of the doors. And take out the windows, or better yet, turn them into one-way glass windows so’s he can look in but I can’t look out.

And look at those handy storage drawers for tools ‘o’ torture to reside in. How convenient is that!

The pink can stay, though. I do like pink.

~~*~~

Speaking of pink:

Master’s manly-man brown desk and ugly tan chair and beige carpet and brown table and tan curtains and hard wood, metal knives, sharp corners, cologne-smelling, Xbox-playing mancave has been magically transformed into a pink and purple, flowers and butterflies, sunlit, care bears and fairies, fluffy pillows and pink throw-rugs, flashing-lights and soothing-lullaby-playing little girl’s room.

He took one look and said it was nauseating.

Clearly the man has no style.

~~*~~

Speaking of Teh Man:

I have very suspicious fingerprint bruising along my right forearm. Four perfect finger-shaped circles that, coincidentally, are the same size as Master’s fingertips. Master and I have spent the last couple of days arguing debating whether or not he is the cause of said bruising.

He claims to not remember the causing. Unfortunately, I can’t quite remember the causing either.

Nevertheless, the only person in my life who could, or, more to the point, who WOULD leave fingerprint bruises on my forearm, is HIM.

Finally, last night, after I once again shoved my arm under his nose while he was reading and accusingly said “Look what you did!”, he sighed, set his book down, and turning my arm this way and that, turning his hand this way and that, succeeded in matching his finger pads to the marks and closing his fist around my arm.

“Ah HA!” I cried. (Victory is mine!)

He shrugged, picked up his book. “Yeah. Probably was me.” And went back to reading.

I’ve no idea exactly what I was after but nonchalantly being dismissed? Wasn’t it.

~~*~~

Speaking of being dismissed:

We are now about 2 weeks into the 7th year of our relationship. I am currently on the lookout for signs that he is succumbing to the dreaded 7 year itch.

I want to think I have nothing to worry about because, according to various internet resources (including the wisdom that is Urban Dictionary) the 7 year itch pertains mostly to boredom within monogamy. Occasionally boredom with the relationship in general but mostly sex.

One, he doesn’t have to be monogamous if he doesn’t want to be. And isn’t, necessarily.

Two, if he’s bored with the relationship or our sex, he has the power to change it up. So it’d be his own fault. Right? Right!

But if he buys a sports car, we’re gonna chat.

~~*~~

Speaking of sports cars:

I offered to buy him a sports car if he’d have penis reduction surgery.

He declined.

Hmmph.

~~*~~

ps. I added my reply to the last post!

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