Okay, tell me this... why do I go months and months around little snot nosed kids, hacking people in the post office, bleary eyed coworkers without a sniffle, without a wheeze and then on the first day of my vacation go from bright eyed excited about two weeks off to serve my Master to flat on my back, ran over my a Mac Truck sick in the first four hours???? Why damn it!!!!
And as long as I am questioning the universe... tell me why, why nearly every fucking morning when nature calls, when the I am at the "place", when the pressure inside builds to critical... why is it the exact same time of day that Master is sitting on the pot??? And it isn't always the morning... this bizarre syncing of bowel movements has occurred all hours of the day. Tell me why? I want to know. Is there some cosmic connection between our bowels... when his earth moves, mine must naturally follow??? Now there are two bathrooms in this house, but the other one... it is in the basement, down with cobwebs and spiders, a dim naked light bulb, the sink to wash ones hands is the utility sink. My book is not down there. And when I make that now familiar inarticulate howl of frustration at the cruelty of the universe, Master's cackle of pure unadulterated joy follows me down the stairs. It always makes his day all that much better, to know I was forced to use the sub toilet once again.
And why when I tell Master a nice long list of plans for my day, does he feel compelled to add some random thing like "dust the lamp shades" to my elegant and well crafted agenda. Meh... that is obvious, he cannot leave me without a last word from him, some imposition and inconvenience. Double meh...
Speaking of plans and agendas... I have laundry, folding of said laundry, a little bit of shopping, cookie baking, cleaning up of kitchen of said baking, writing... and now lamp shades to get started on... I should add in a nap somewhere in there. I slept like crap last night and I am still sick after all... Merry fucking Christmas.
1 hour ago