He’s got four legs and a tail and actually “he” is three.
Three four-legged, furry, needy, loving, demanding, individual, pains in the ass who are always happy to see me. Even the cats.
They cuddle around me on cold nights and stretch long and lean like pelts laid out in the warm summer heat.
They give about as good as they get, which is to say a lot and nothing.
I feed and care for them, provide them with my body on which to lay and adventures for the dog and loving indifference for the cats. They in turn withhold any longstanding urge to murder me and lick my face off.
I cannot imagine my life without them and their ceaseless demands for care and attention.
Sometimes I think they are the only things on the planet who care where I am and if I am alive because who else is going to feed them?
But more importantly, how else will they center their universe without me as their sun?
Shut up. I know there are a lot more suns than just me, but let me bask in this idea that to them I am integral to their happiness.
The last words typed into my search window are “dyson clogged.” For Christmas I bought myself a one-time maid service. You can see how that went.
But my tub is clean my sinks are sparkling and I didn’t have to put new sheets on my bed so It was worth the hundred-whatever dollars it’s going to cost me. I tipped the maid $20 for her troubles and had an interesting conversation with Peyton when feelings came up surrounding the maid doing all this manual labor for us. I had a similar chat yesterday as we watched my car get washed by a team of laborers.
The funny thing is is I’d do all of this myself if it weren’t for my back injury. I literally cannot bend at the waist to do most domestic things. It fucking sucks. And considering I hadn’t gotten my car washed since May and it’s been 18 months since a maid stepped foot in here I think we could all agree that I make do.
Anyway, sorry it took me forever to get Boobday up today. Love you guys!
It’s a miracle I survived this week. I know I say it every week, but it’s true: I have been so fucking busy. When Peyton is with my ex I work much longer hours and try to squeeze in something social on the nights I’m not working late. It means I wake up exhausted with just enough in me to post to Instagram and run off for the day. I nearly missed waking up Tuesday morning because I’d fallen asleep while trying to set my alarm. I felt like a toddler falling asleep in her spaghetti.
I may be largely absent from this space from time to time, but my need to connect and be out there and share myself with the anonymous world is still alive and well via IG. There’s a WordPress plugin that connects IG to a blog, but because my material is more “adult” the plugin repeatedly drops me – fuckers. I’ll try and figure something out because I hate all the blank space I leave here.
I’m still here. As always. Still looking to get my groove back, but if you think about it, my muse has been gone a very long time. Nearly 3 years, longer if you consider the last year of our relationship as the magic waning.
I’m running a hair late to work, but I’m otherwise organized. I look good, feel good, got my baby with me this week. I’m working out, not wasting time on silly men – just spending time exploring my needs and wants in relation to men. I’m feeling good.
I’m sure it’s no coincidence that after two years and nine months The Neighbor finally moved away and left my orbit. I feel weightless, joyous, filled with hope.
I can hardly believe it.
So, in honor of all of this, I’m throwing it back old school and posting a random pic like I used to (before IG).
Based on the mountain of clean clothes I’ve been avoiding for over a week which has been my week-long bed companion I can tell you I’m feeling a little out of control. I’ve procrastinated mightily on some important work stuff and now the deadline is tomorrow. The laundry itself isn’t a big deal, but it’s a good indicator of how I’m feeling in general: when I can keep up with everyday life, then I’m keeping up with other things, too. It’s made me realize that there is an overriding sense of chaos in my life which has kept me from organizing my time for the blog and once this deadline is met tomorrow I plan on sitting down and writing out some real life goals. It’s time.
Ok, that business aside, the week has been good and quiet — I’m liking quiet a lot. The weekend will be quiet, as well. A couple of birthdays, working on that deadline, spending time with Pey. I really can’t wait to get to my Sunday when I can write down some goals and intentions and then actually meet them throughout the next year. I wonder what I’ll get to do with Boobday…
Speaking of which, this week we have a new participant. A woman who read the blog from start to finish and she promised herself that when she caught up she’d send in a pic for Boobday. I think that’s one of the most wonderful things I’ve heard. So, please welcome Mis Determined as you always do.