One day. A day for rest. A day for relaxation. A day for love making. A day for treating ourselves. A day for each other. A day for reconnecting.
A week or so ago I suggested that we both arrange to play hooky from work for a day and I would book a massage for both of us and we would just relax and hang out. Yesterday was the day and we started out by heading out for a massage first thing in the morning. Grabbed a nice bite to eat in a little coffee shop downtown, did a bit of window shopping and panty buying (pour moi!) and headed home for a lazy afternoon of fucking and relaxing in the sun. We smoked a bit of weed and laid out on the lawn under our water mister and just dozed for an hour or so and then moved it inside to have some seriously needed and much anticipated fantastic sex. Good lord. Has it been that long? I felt like we were fucking like crazy, sex deprived fiends who were hungry for every bit of sexual thrill and satisfaction they could find.
And all was good with the world. Funny how sometimes it really is just that simple.
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Away
Right now I am away on business. I don't usually mind being away on business so much. And I am in a cool city that I love to visit, so that makes things easier for me. I do know though that that is not the case for Resident Manservant. I know he finds things quite stressful when I'm away. I am not really sure why that is, but I think it's a combination of 'when the cat is away the mice come out to play...' or whatever that metaphor is. He stays up way too late reading comic books and masturbating, going to movies and goofing off on the internet because he thinks he can get away with it and he's bored. He really just ends up wearing himself down and stressing himself out. I wish he handled his time alone better. I worry about him when I'm gone.
He is home dealing with real life. And work. And the dogs. And my sister. And the house that he must have reasonably clean for me upon my return. This last one especially is the one that I worry about. Because oh. my. god. Sometimes the details escape him (Hi! Love you dear!!!). I know that the house falls to pieces when I'm away. The bathroom is a disaster. There are probably XBox controllers all over the living room. Dog toys all over the floors. Half chewed rawhide bones lurking in dark corners. And garbages needing to be taken out. The kitchen (if my estimates are correct) is probably looking like a whirlwind has struck and the kitchen cabinets are all -- and I do mean all of them -- wide open and the drawers are open and there are probably more than a few dishes and water glasses sitting around. And this is to say nothing of the laundry. The massive piles of laundry he somehow manages to accumulate in my absence.
To be fair, I don't really care what the house looks like when I'm gone. It's how well he manages to put things back together before I get home that concerns me. I am very particular about our house. I guess I'm house proud or something. But mostly, I just don't like having to clean up messes that I didn't make. And I'd love to be able to just walk in after being gone for 4 days and, oh, I don't know--fuck. Without abandon and without distraction.
And I get distracted by a dirty house. This is a prime example of my control issues coming out in full force. I can't help it. I'm defective.
On another note, I think I'm going to a gay bar tomorrow! Should be very interesting. A gay bar, you ask? I work in the field of HIV prevention/education. Many of the people I work with province wide are gay and one of them is taking a group of us to a gay bar. Good times will, I'm sure, be had by all.
He is home dealing with real life. And work. And the dogs. And my sister. And the house that he must have reasonably clean for me upon my return. This last one especially is the one that I worry about. Because oh. my. god. Sometimes the details escape him (Hi! Love you dear!!!). I know that the house falls to pieces when I'm away. The bathroom is a disaster. There are probably XBox controllers all over the living room. Dog toys all over the floors. Half chewed rawhide bones lurking in dark corners. And garbages needing to be taken out. The kitchen (if my estimates are correct) is probably looking like a whirlwind has struck and the kitchen cabinets are all -- and I do mean all of them -- wide open and the drawers are open and there are probably more than a few dishes and water glasses sitting around. And this is to say nothing of the laundry. The massive piles of laundry he somehow manages to accumulate in my absence.
To be fair, I don't really care what the house looks like when I'm gone. It's how well he manages to put things back together before I get home that concerns me. I am very particular about our house. I guess I'm house proud or something. But mostly, I just don't like having to clean up messes that I didn't make. And I'd love to be able to just walk in after being gone for 4 days and, oh, I don't know--fuck. Without abandon and without distraction.
And I get distracted by a dirty house. This is a prime example of my control issues coming out in full force. I can't help it. I'm defective.
On another note, I think I'm going to a gay bar tomorrow! Should be very interesting. A gay bar, you ask? I work in the field of HIV prevention/education. Many of the people I work with province wide are gay and one of them is taking a group of us to a gay bar. Good times will, I'm sure, be had by all.
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