So there I was, writing my happy nilla post for Sunday. I did that on…Thursday? Friday? I forget. I could go back and check but it’s late, I’m tired so I’m not going to bother. If such details keep you awake at night, feel free to look. 🙂

So I waited a long time for a Thursday evening text from Master.

It never came.

I went to bed, understanding that the strange day up here in Boston had everyone feeling all confuddly. Many of us glued to our local tv stations, and it only got worse come Friday with the drama of the two men being found, one killed, one running, and eventually captured. It made for literally, 24+ hours of live tv and radio (they were playing the live tv news on sports radio on my way home from work on Friday night)…there was literally no getting away from it short of shutting everything off.

Yeah, I likes sports radio. So?

To back up a bit though, my pissyness started at work later Friday afternoon. I had a lot of stuff to do, and USUALLY I text Him when I have a chance–aaaand…this night I didn’t. And he didn’t text me. And I felt like…didn’t He even notice  that I’d been uber quiet? Did He miss me? And all I could think of was “that fucker. Can’t even text me more than 5 fucking words all day.”

Now, in fairness, I had NO idea about the showdown in Watertown after 5 p.m. I was already at work and sequestered from the world. I have my ipod music and that’s it. Zen.

So he’s glued to the tv watching the drama, no idea that I was getting pissier.

And pissier.

You know how it is when you start to play a drama scene in your head. In your mind, you write the text of the exchanges. You create your own vision of “could-a, should-a, would-a”…and all the responses. You imagine things that just aren’t happening. You can create your very own drama triangle ALL BY YOURSELF!

And I realized I was doing it and just fucking stopped. I was actually able to stop it. I sigh, and wrap up my work, and head out to my car.

But I was still exasperated.

I turn on the engine, the radio pops on….and then I hear the news…while the reporter is talking about what’s going on, he’s moved by police because he’s in danger of crossfire. Seconds later we hear POP POP POP….gunfire being exchanged.

(feel bad about that poor guys boat)

And I’m as riveted as everyone else. Running into the house from my car to turn on the news and see what the FUCK is going on.

And when it is resolved, cheering and jubilation.

And I go to bed.

And no text from Master.

I send my Goodnight Master as required.

Fucking required.

Woulda given HIM the cold shoulder, but I must comply. I am an obedient, if sullen slut.

He texts back something inane.

I text back something snarky.

He texts back His amusement of my snark.

We go back and forth for a bit over it.

Saturday I’m up before the birds, ready for my other job, text Master my obligatory “good morning”. That was it. Terse, much? 🙂

Yeah, so?

After I’m at work I see His text come in. Something silly  and I’m fighting myself to not be amused. And tell Him that. And say something else a bit…not snarky, but maybe snippy.

He laughs.

Texts me that I’m WAY more fun pissy.

He LOVES me being pissy. I’m not sure why. I think He hates when I get all mushy and lovey dovey. He still wants me to be submissive, but it’s okay to not be a fawning doormat.


After 3 years and I’m only just getting this? Hello, someone cue the cosmic clue by 4. Coz it just whacked me over the head!

After my day is done, I manage to get a wee bit of face time with Him. And I’m still a bit sassy. He laughs. We play. I kiss His cheek. I’ve mentioned His beard is white, right?

I was wearing intensely red lipstick, as I know He likes it.


It leaves a lovely hard-to-remove red lip stain on His beard.


He got my shoe off, jeezuz He’s so fucking tricky…and tickled my foot right there in starbucks, made the girl sitting behind us giggle too. We’re like frigging teenagers, I swear.

We only have about an hour, and then I must go. But it was good to have face time. Good to get my pissy pushed away. Good to leave my mark on Him.

He’s gonna have a hella-time washing my lips off His face.