Howdy Pervie Peeps. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Grab a fresh cup of your favorite whatever, and sit a bit. I have nothing of great import to say, but you all know how I tend to natter on at you.
The short and curly of it is that I’ve been sick for the past 10 days.
Now, this isn’t the first time I’ve been under the weather. Remeber?(heh…I know that’s a typo, “remember” is the correct spelling and all, but it is *exactly* like how my voice sounds when I speak due to stuffy nose situation! So I’m leaving it there, and you can have fun reading it aloud in your pretend stuffy nose voice!) I had the flu way back in the winter just after my birthday (happy birthday you old fart, ACHOO!). But this thing? It just bitch-slapped the fuck out of me, way worse than the flu did.
So…you know those pervie scenes we all love? When she is all tied up, and there’s a bright red ballgag (why are they always red?) and she’s drooling all over herself omg…and it’s so. So. SO…
I mean yes, it’s gross too, but by damn it makes me wet, every time I see it.
Or how about those scenes where she’s being spanked so hard and she’s wailing and crying and whining–although, sometimes it’s really fake because there’s nary a mark on her and I think “oh christmas, give it up girlfriend, you’re so fucking fake” —no, I don’t mean that one. I mean the scene where He is really, really, waling on her, and her backside is red, bruises are starting to blossom and grow.
There’s that one moment when the camera goes full on her face for just a second. Her makeup is in ruins, mascara running, snot and tears streaming down her face. It’s fascinating. The expression, the mix of defeat and …joy? Bliss? Ecstasy?
And it’s hot.
Hot as hell in July.
This was not the case with my snot. Okay, yeah I’m being graphic here but we ARE graphic kind of peeps, are we not? For days I could breathe just fine. There was no congestion…I could smell and breathe and all that stuff, but my throat was a ruin. I often get infections in my vocal chords so I figured that’s what it was. I’d cried the day before (a lot) at some emo family stuff, and it’s just not unusual for there to be physical ramifications afterwards.
But then my voice left.
Day one. Croak. Cough. Cough again until releasing the mucus plugging my throat. Breathe. Repeat.
Day two. No croak. No sound. Only deep rasping breaths and coughing to clear my airway. Throat sore from coughing.
Day three, four and part of five were repeats of the first two days…until midway through day five when I got congested. My eyes streamed. My nose ran like a London sewer in the 1800’s. My throat cleared up, but boy, I ached. A visit to the Doctor got me nowhere, as there was no visible measure of infection. (I’d been self-medicating with pain relievers, ergo no fever).
The worst part was this malaise. I had zero energy. Even when I had the flu I could do a little bit of something. This thing? Nope. I got up, went to work, came home, then back to bed. That, frankly, scared the crap out of me. I can always push through things, always do what needs doing. But this thing? Knocked me on my ass, hard.
On top of that?
The fucking weather. (Sorry Jz, but you know…it’s the only word.)
I mean seriously. Last weekend the heat had to be turned on. The high was 46. In May. It was so cold, so wet, so raw we were ALL freezing. Out came the fuzzy pants, the sweaters, the layers, the thick socks. They told us it was going to get hot, but we didn’t really believe it. It had been cold for 10 days. Hadn’t broken 60, let alone the 80’s. But they got it wrong after all. We skipped right over the 80’s, because on Wednesday it zoomed up. All the way up 94. Before noon. And it stayed there. All. Damned. Day.
You read that correctly. In three days, the temperature went up FIFTY DEGREES. Thursday was even warmer, 96. The weather people were going nuts. Cold front coming in, they said. Careful of the storms, they said. Instead, everyone was on facebook when the thunderstorms started rolling through around 10 that night, cheering and shivering with the ferocity of the storms, but expressing their joy with the blessed relief from the heat.
Somehow, the breaking of the weather began my own turn around. Yesterday I had to take a nap after I got up, before I could go to work. Sad but true. But it was almost cold when I went to bed and I slept hard.
No no no! Not a hard-on, pervs!
silly youse guys.
I got a later start this Saturday morning than I’d wanted but once I was up, I could feel my energies begin to revive. It was…WOW and AMAZING all at the same time! One job, done. Second job, done. Third job done.
With energy to spare!
Now tonight I’m back to being congested, but suddenly, I had that feeling. I was on my way to finding my sexy and decided to come and blog with you all.
I didn’t feel sexy when I was sick. In my case, I didn’t feel that snotty drippyness was at all becoming, was at all attractive, was at all even pervie. And it definitely wasn’t in the least bit sexy.
I actually didn’t feel anything except that I was dying. I know, that sounds melodramatic. But for a day or so, when I wasn’t rebounding as quickly as I thought I should (I mean really. TEN DAYS???) I was thinking maybe I wasn’t going to get better. Even optimists can get down, you know. And believe me, I was Debbie Downer.
I whined publicly (I rarely do that. Seriously.) I didn’t think about M, could barely send him the required text to let him know I was still alive. I didn’t look at porn, read porn or even think one sexy thought.
As if that wasn’t bad enough? I couldn’t think of one fantasy to put myself to sleep at night like I usually do. Not. ONE.
So now it’s cool. The air is swirling around my ankles from the open window behind me, my body feels more my own again, and suddenly sexy ideas are swirling around my brain.
Yeah, oh yeah. I’m on the road to better. I’m back in blogland. Now it’s time to start writing some of the sexy naughty things that I wanted to, before the whole “sick house fell on me and tried to kill me” thing.
*Rubs hands together, grins*
Okay. Tomorrow then.