
I put away things, papers and the odd book. I stacked and packed things so there is some small hope I could make my life small enough to go unnoticed. Sometimes that actually is a challenge. I tend to be a paper packrat. I keep clippings and whole magazines even. I keep books too. It's so damned hard to let go of a good book. I think actually, though don't tell them, it would be easier to let go of a fairly good man than a really good book. If the man was really good he'd supply a me with a bookstore to just take what I wanted. Or, a credit card I never actually had to pay. Oh, those dreams about winning the lottery! *sigh*
Anyway, stepping back to some form of reality... I washed dishes again in the afternoon cause no one came by to offer to make me coffee and clean the cup after. Why don't people just come over and offer to wash your dishes for you? Wouldn't that be a nice friendly thing. If you have new neighbours try that one out on them. Bet they'd be surprised. I wonder if they'd think you were really great or just really scary. The world is so weird these days.
I moved my area rugs around. A different pattern for the runway since I only have one hall, the apartment is pretty much a hallway the size of a walk-in closet. I like it though. It makes you feel you could just sit in a chair with quiet (non-screechy) wheels and get to everything with just a swoosh of your chair. I could shoot myself from one end of the apartment to the other if I rigged up some kind of elastic slingshot effect. That would be kind of fun and interesting. Of course, aim would be important. Hitting the walls would not be very nice, I'm not a pinball. I doubt the landlord would go for the idea of me coating the walls with rubber to bounce off of. Spoilsport.
So, after washing floors and dishes and things the only thing left to polish off the day was a round of clothes washing. So I did. It was a day of much soap and watery things. The last load is done and it's just sitting there nagging at me to hang it all up before I am allowed to creep in under that pile of clean clothes to my snuggly bed. Clothes piles are mean and nasty things.
But I was thinking... how lovely it would be to have a male slave. Not for screwy, silly stuff like sex. Geez... who are we kidding, women can do that better without a man getting in the way. A man slave would start his day making your breakfast and coffee and then cleaning it all up. All you would have to do is smell it and eat it. By the time you arise it's all clean and put away. You'd never know the kitchen was even used that morning.
Then man slave would be allowed to shower and whatever, leaving the sparkling clean bathroom for me whenever I finally decide to get up.
Yes, you knew it was a fantasy as soon as I wrote about a man who leaves a bathroom sparkling clean. It may sparkle, but it's not clean.
So that was my kind of day. Cleaning up, coffee drinking and fluffing off with the computer. I did listen to a few CD's this morning while the male slave was being delivered. Yeah, yeah... a grrl can daydream. A grrl does daydream, I talked to the imaginary male slave while I worked today. But, that's ok, no one heard but me.
3 comments:
This is the kind of post that makes me wish I could write like you. So many vivid little images and quirky ideas.
Maybe you think too much while you write. I stop thinking entirely and just let my fingers type whatever they want. My real brains are likely all there. Luckily there are ten of them.
Ok, I'll bite. Where do we apply to be your male slave? I am cleaning my own bathroom now. Even scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees.
It would be much more enjoyable for me to clean for someone else. :)
revolegadnob@yahoo.com
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