Days filled with a thousand little things.

It seems like my days are filled with little things...

And yesterday was filled with a thousand little things. Work was long, challenging, hilarious... it started with a terrible rush of adrenaline. I had taken the billfold out of my purse and somehow forgotten to put it back on Friday. So when I got home Friday night I discovered my lapse. Master was pretty irritated but I really didn't need anything in it over the weekend and I knew exactly where it was so I wasn't too worried.

...not too worried until I got to work Monday morning and I walked into work and it was not where I knew I had put it. ARRRGHHHH!!!!! But it was just a helpful coworker who saw it out and 'helpfully' locked it up for me. But it was an adrenaline rush.

Then the kids at work were extra crazy... I mean really extra crazy. I spent about a half hour trying to convince a kid he was not the hulk... finally settled for telling the 'hulk' that I did not care if he was the 'hulk' but he had to stop knocking over the furniture. Helped serve lunch to some out of control autistic kids that kept throwing their food... and last but not least... I had the privilege of monitoring a kid in seclusion dancing around naked singing "Ninety-nine bottles of Beer". ...cough ...cough.

I bought groceries on the way home (didn't get that done on the weekend because I didn't have my billfold... remember?)... got home... finally really tired. Master took one look at me and ordered me to take a rest.

After a thirty minute nap, I made a quick dinner... hamburger gravy over boiled red potatoes, cauliflower, and salad. I made the gravey with turkey burger and when Master noticed the difference he gave me this look like I had pooped in his favorite chair and I was just tired and dopey enough from my nap I snapped at him... "What?... what... at least I cooked!"

Got a bit of a correction for that. Just a sharp grab of the back of my neck, a sharp pinch and a growled word... "willful bitch".

I glared back... and sweetly asked, "Would you like me to make you something else?"

He just pushed me away and growled "willful" again.

After dinner he said, "What do you have on your feet?"

I just held up my ratty old sheepskin slippers and gave him a "um... duh..." look. He glared at me and I sweetly said again... "What would you like me to have on my feet?"

Now you have to get this... Master rarely ever orders me to do things... he will do something like that... like ask what I have on my feet and expect me to extrapolate that means he wants me to put on my walking shoes. The fact he decided we needed to go for a walk had everything to do with my snotty attitude. Walking is an exercise in obedience.

I knew that... but like I said... snotty... tired and snotty enough to repeat... oh so sweetly, "What would you like me to have on my feet, Master?"

And he finally growled, "Get on your walking shoes, bitch." And with that clear order, clear expectation... I jumped right up. I might have been having and attitude, but that does not mean I don't hop to if he orders me to do something.

The walk was once again a lesson in obedience. I could feel my rebellion boiling around inside me. Just the way he was holding my hand felt wrong, prickly, sweaty, plain uncomfortable... and I kept trying to rearrange my fingers to find a place that felt right. And he would not let me... in fact once he figured out that I was having trouble with it he deliberately squeezed harder, twisting and hurting my fingers. That man has iron strong hands and in my state I felt like my fingers were breaking.

It took about a mile before I could relax... relax and just walk. I could finally let go and just enjoy the warmth and strength of his hand holding mine. It was dark, the sky above our head clear, but a light spring rain was falling. There must have been a cloud up there somewhere. Each tiny drop was a sparkle of coolness as it touched my skin, warm and sweaty from exertion. It felt wonderful.

When we got home I finished my taxes... always a foray into unfamiliar territory. I am not strong with numbers and legal speak and it always makes me anxious. But it is finished at least for this year. It is a good feeling.

Then we watched a video, a couple of episodes of Master's favorite show, "House of Cards" a BBC series that I bought him for his birthday.

Then I brushed my teeth, a nightly act of personal hygiene that he requires. He has stood over me and watched to make sure that each individual tooth gets cleaned to his standards. (Giggles... he is stricter about my mouth than he is about the kitchen.)

Then as is our nightly ritual, I knelt at his feet and asked, "Where would you like me to sleep tonight Master?". He wrapped his arms and legs around me and commented that he should use me for a foot rest. I giggle and moved to my hands and knees and he rest his feet on my back. He asked if I could do that for four hours. I honestly answered that I think that four hours would be beyond my ability. And he agreed... he told me to sleep in his bed... he always tells me to sleep in his bed, but I am required to ask.

I slept soundly. And I was still half asleep when I stumbled upstairs in the morning at 5 a.m. for my morning shower. I think I must have had my eyes still closed as I brushed the tangles from my hair. Master was there, his voice soft, warm, loving, "Is my pet still sleepy? Here let me help." And then he pinched the fuck out of my nipple.

Woke me right up.

Ready for another day filled with a thousand things.