WFH

I'm prioritising at present and putting my energies where I need them to be, in response to all kinds of stuff - the above thus reflects my current charming approach to Life. I have nasty infections and I'm on antibiotics, I'm at the hospital again soon, and the Doctor tomorrow. I am tired. Medical doom-mongering may however go and fuck itself sideways, and I'm back to dealing with things my way for a bit. The options are for interested parties to assist or get out out of my way. Life is so much easier that way.

Anyway, I may not around much but I'm doing ok - because I say so :)  

Teapot porn

The teaset I have been raving about. Badly photographed but it gives you the gist.

I find imagining frisky men looking for Femdom or chastity stuff and finding this instead really entertaining.

The last 48 hours.

• N had a motorbike accident involving a large male deer running fast into the bike. It’s a miracle he’s alive really, there are loads of fatalities here for people in cars let alone being hit on a bike. He is basically ok, a few small injuries only. Astonishingly he managed to avoid actually coming off the bike, thank God. If he had come off I wouldn't fancy his chances.
• We had a small but distressingly fast-growing fire, which I was putting out at exactly the same time that N staggered home announcing his crash, so I was trying to deal with both these things at once with a young shrieking child in tow for that added touch of worry.
• The bike is badly smashed up in numerous places, obviously. It won't be covered on the insurance for lengthy reasons.
• N has had his ECG and the results of that thankfully seem fine at least. That is a great relief to me.
• The results of his bloodwork should be in tomorrow.
• He now needs to get his lungs checked.
• If anyone wants me I will be curled up in a ball in the corner hitting my head repeatedly on the wall. N cannot for the life of him understand why I may be stressed to fuck by the way - I'm going to need a fucking ECG at this rate.

Spring is back and so am I (well, nearly).

Spring is springing here, and with it my health appears to be returning. Oh the joy. Oh forest how I’ve missed you! Cities! Coffee shops! Shops! The river! Oh wide world how I’ve missed you! It feels like I am buried under a heap of rocks, and then I get to venture back Out There. Oh the joy, the joy.

Yesterday I got N to drive me over to Bury as I needed sandals. I basically wear boots, sandals and trainers at home and as it is warm enough for the boots to go away new sandals were needed. I got a pretty bronzey pair that are comfy enough to walk around in all day but still easy on the eye so I am pleased. Since my health went downhill the stylishness of my footwear has sadly gone with it much of the time.

The thing is though, when I have been out of action for months on end as soon as I get out properly there are loads of things I want to buy. So after the sandals I bought myself a polka dot dress and some leggings, a beautiful dress from Monsoon for the munchkin to wear to the upcoming wedding of one of my best friends, matching pretty things to go with it, hair colour for me, bake ware, teeny snack tubs because when I am very low carbing it’s easier to just chuck some snacks in a tub than try to find somewhere that sells what I can eat, Easter treats for people and goodness knows what else. We stopped for coffee and spent some time chatting. Then in the evening he drove us down to the river at a beautiful place near us and we strolled around happily. It’s nice having someone to do the gentle transitional things with.

The only O/p blog bringing you Bambi rather than bondage - you love me really.

This morning I went for a lovely walk in the forest where I live. And I’m sitting here now with the windows open with the sun coming in sipping iced cold brew coffee topped up with ginger beer (drink of the Gods).

Anyway, astute readers may have noticed the walking and very low carbing are back. Aside from my yet again squooshed fitness levels which need dragging back up again, I have, as always when I flare and end up not able to do anything, put loads of weight on. So, I’m VLC-ing and for now just trying to build up with walking again. It takes about a month of walking before I am back enough to exercise more properly but if I overpush it it’s counterproductive. This is a bit pesky as the above mentioned wedding is in three weeks and I would have liked to be a bit less fat for that, especially as I am now going to be more ‘visible’ than I had expected having been asked to make a speech and do things (I always seem to get asked to give speeches at weddings, I have no idea why).

What else? Well N has been going for tests. I am worried and going extremely easy on him at present. He doesn’t like the fact I am going easy on him, but that’s tough. There are bigger concerns than whether he’s overjoyed with the current status quo. I want a healthy living slave not a devoted dead one. He is going to have to put up with it.  

So anyway, I have very little that is scintillating to tell you. Enforcing a life that appears vanilla (well relatively) on the surface is probably one the most obscure things I have ever done. N is craving normality back, but for now I am forcing him to enjoy the sunshine and take it as easy as possible. I'm such a bitch. 

Why we *really* need to win the football.

You know I said the slave was not well? Well today began with me ringing for an emergency appointment then frogmarching him to the Doctor. You see left to his own devices, he suffers from 'Suffer And Worry Those Around You Constantly About One’s Health But Avoid Going To The Dr At All Costs Syndrome'. It’s a common English disease, especially amongst the male populous. I blame it on us not winning the World Cup since 1966, and can only conclude it's some subconscious attempt to prove their masculinity to redress the balance.    

Anyway, he staggered into the Dr this morning looking very unwell indeed, grey of pallor, breathless, and with what was obviously rather bad kidney pain. My parting words were that if they didn’t suggest one he was to ask for a diabetes test, and to get a flipping new inhaler.    

He emerged again a few minutes later with referrals for an ECG and a diabetes test (neither of which he had to ask for), and a prescription for a new inhaler (ditto). The Doctor said the region he had said pain in was indeed his kidneys and seemed rather concerned, not giving N the impression that he thought he was wasting his time at all (no shit Sherlock).

Anyway, he is at least now going to prodded and poked to find out what’s going on with him. I’m glad he is getting checked out at least.

Some people need to be flipping well owned. All that hysterical online worry about slaves having limbs amputated by power-mad owners particularly makes me laugh as I am fairly certain that if N were to accidentally sever a limb he would try to look stoic and causally say 'Oh it's nothing to worry about, I'll just take some lemsip then I'm bound to grow a new one' as he looked for a mop to clean up the arterial blood gushing on the oak flooring before it stained.

'Honestly, I'm fine Mistress. No problems here!'

Snuggly Sunday

N is not feeling great at present, he has a lot of pain and is really struggling. So it was especially lovely to find he had helped arrange lots of particularly lovely things for me today. I have had presents, flowers, afternoon tea including a frankly obscene amount of cake, and we snuggled up and watched a movie and then I took a nap. It’s all been very nice and snugglesome and probably the last thing anyone wants to read about. Good slaving N :)

Tra la la.

Imperfection

None of the people I love are objectively ‘perfect’.

A random sample shows one who sometimes has mood swings that could shift continents (his name is N, you may have heard of him). One who is extremely gentle, innocent and has a sometime alarming inability to cope with certain forms of pressure, (which is one of the things he has me for). One has a temper, and an addictive personality. One goes into total denial about things she can’t cope with and then shuts down when they occur anyway. One is too scared to be brave (though I am seeing signs of a change occurring). One is very classbound, and something of a snob. One suffers from depression. One is the most wonderful loving, giving, regal, accomplished and glorious woman you could wish to meet, but has the most astonishing ability to select the most maladjusted men you could ever wish to meet. Blah blah. In short my loved ones are people.

I happily love them regardless of these imperfections. I accept them as human which is after all a chronic condition of inherent imperfection.

And they too love me, despite the fact I am messy as sin, and more imperfect than many of them. For me, being seen and loved as I am at that time; not through the filter of some imaginary future point where I will have accomplished whatever I am working on, am better, more serene, more whole, less fractured, braver, more settled, slimmer or with shinier hair; is an important part of being recognised, of being seen, of being loved.  I don’t feel I have to pretend to be ‘perfect’ or any better than I am to my loved ones. They know I am fragile as fine crystal in some ways, and as resilient as diamond in others (in a Vickers hardness test way rather than a fifties film star way though, sadly - see above re shinier hair. A diamond after all is essentially just charcoal that's handled stress exceptionally well). They know my weaknesses as they do my strengths, and when I throw myself into a mission that is important to me they scoop me up when I stagger bloody out the other side even if they think I should have quit it ages back, because they know me.



Diamond, sparkly, fractured, and no shiny hair.

So, for me, my lack of perfection is something that I don’t want to have to hide in a close relationship. I am confident enough to know my ‘good’ bits are easily admirable to some, so it’s having someone love the complete package that is ‘me’, or at least the bits I elect to reveal (or reveal unintentionally) at that time, that means ‘love’ to me. I’m talking love in all it’s forms here by the way.

I’d go as far as to say that when people start declaring they consider me a great wonder it means very little when I know they just know the shiny parts of me. See me under a heap of books on the bed, surrounded by coffee mugs, mess, screwed up balls of paper and tissues, and cereal bar wrappers then we'll talk.

So, while I would never pretend I am in fond of transparency for myself, I do think that love, whatever form it may be, needs to be based on much more than just shiny stuff.

It's liberating being a whole, messy person. When I look at people who try to show their best selves all the time I just find myself thinking they must be exhausted.