oh, what a really nice Sunday morning it was. It’s actually been a good weekend for me, despite Saturday’s angst-filled post.
Saturday was cold up north here, until late in the afternoon, when I finally ventured outside to attack the hedge with the trimmer. I worked up a really good mad. Really really mad.
You ever watch the movie “You’ve Got Mail” with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks? When her bookstore is going down under the big chain store, she keeps hearing people say “it’s not personal, it’s business”.
Which is exactly what I was told when I lost my job.
I’m done with the front now, and pull my 130 feet of cord into the backyard and just ATTACK the undergrowth that has sprung up due to lack of attention these last few years. I’m swinging and hacking at all those tiny maple trees, hundreds of them, growling fiercely.
My neighbors, if they were in their windows watching me, would surely have thought me mad.
And I was. Angry mad.
“IT”S NOT FUCKING PERSONAL IT’S BUSINESS??? OH REALLY YOU FUCKING ASSHAT MANAGER MAN? JUST WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? COZ TO ME IT IS PRETTY. FUCKING. PERSONAL.”
Swishing through the undergrowth, I spin around, eyeing the ground vengefully. Did I miss any? Growling, and rabid with rage…there! That bush has some tree sprouts hiding (in terror, no doubt, after witnessing what an enraged nilla armed with electric hedge trimmers did to their bretheren)…!
Panting, rage has drained away. I look around at my suddenly tidy back area. Clear as a whistle. Well, if you ignore all the maple saplings laying about.
Geezuz did it feel good to get that out there.
And doing something useful with the rage? Oh, that was awesome, too. I was really tired afterwards, but it was a good tired. And I’ve got a few more job leads AND an interview sometime next week.
I went to bed late last night, and got an O from Master, which was nice of Him, since it had been 3.5 days…I was getting more than a little squirmy there.
Starbucks, with the Man.
Heart wars, and arm pinches, and even a series of extremely painful side pinches. I need to lose that muffin top…He attacks that with such vigor. OMFG.
He is quite the rabid pincher. He gets up from his chair and leans over me, ostensibly looking over my shoulder at whatever is on my computer screen…and reaches his hand down my side and pinches the holy fuck outta my side, my underarms.
And the underarm part hurts a shitload; will likely bruise by tomorrow..but not as bad as the side.
And truth to tell, I earned it. I sometimes forget that, even sitting together in this innocuous environment, we are NOT equals. I should NOT challenge that.
And yet, I can barely help myself.
I’m a sucker for that look on His face, you see. When His eyes spark fire at me, His brows lift, and that “you have to be fucking kidding me, slut” look crosses His face.
Yes, there is that, too.
I do love to walk on the very edge of that cliff…and I seem to test that edge more after we’ve had a longer break between any kind of visit. I’ll likely not get to see Him next week, since He will be away, and when He gets back, I’ll be gone.
Wow. Putting that down makes it seem even LONGER.
But I’ll have my bruises to comfort me for a while, and texts and emails. And we’ll always, always have Starbucks…
(ps…a new Felicitations chapter is up in the “Pages” section, (ch 16))