It’s been 24 hours without any losses now, which is always a good sign. The chili rasboras that remain are bright red and active, and the pygmy corydoras are swimming up and down in their shoal. Everyone is active and looking for food – typical of both species, really.
I did another 25% water change last night, just as a preventative measure. The rassboras, typically, were under the syphon from the clean water bucket and trying to eat the bubbles as they appeared. I thought guppies were bad, but in the tiny mind of a rasbora, anything is possibly food. New ornament, yes? Can I eat it?
I added a tablespooo of aquarium salt too, just to give them an extra boost.
“That’s sea salt” Matt says, examining the box.
“No, it’s aquarium salt. Says so on the box” I smile.
“No, it’s sea salt. It’s made from evaporated seawater, which makes it what exactly?”. Son-of-a…
Luckily it’s not that expensive, but still I feel tricked. I suppose the difference is this stuff is pure- no anti-caking agents, antioxidants, nada.
“It’s weird that it’s in a milk carton, too” he says, noting the carton-shaped box that the salt comes in.
“I wouldn’t worry about milk carton shapes until your face is on side of it” I wink, “though luckily for you, I think I can let you live for now”. He laughs.
“Just for now?”
“Well you know, I’d hate for you to get too comfortable” I grin as I place my arms over his shoulders. “I like to keep you on your toes” I tease.
“As do I, Mrs S. Be forewarned” he says. Duly noted.
I didn’t get everything done yesterday, although I did crack a lot more than what I’d planned to do. I got five posts edited, plus some housework, which feels… amazing. It’s not everything, no, but it’s something, and today I feel cleaner and more at peace. I don’t feel so stuck anymore, the wheels are finally turning.
I had a pamper session last night too which left me feeling softer and more relaxed in myself. I did feel quite emotional for a time, I don’t think I’d realised how stressed out and overburdened I was feeling before.
I pinned the baskets back up above my desk as well, giving me a little bit more storage space and organisation. The top one is filled with a planter of artificial ivy, and the one underneath has my pens and will-be sticky notes. I’ve got some new, more realistic -looking artificial ivy coming tomorrow, along with some speech bubble sticky notes, and for no other reason than because I deserve to enjoy my work and workspace. If there is one thing this past uear or two has taught me, it’s that I really do deserve much more than what I ask for.
We discussed that again yesterday too, about then and now. Why one and not the other? I never quite fully understood that.
“Okay, so you weren’t afraid of him then, you were… frustrated with him, we can agree? Why was that?”
“Because he didn’t respect the relationship, he didn’t respect me” he says. It checks out.
“He didn’t respect you either, even if you couldn’t see that sometimes”. Ah.
Respect, I suppose, is something that has been playing on my mind lately. It makes me think of my childhood, of how my parents always demainded respect, and in some ways my mother still does. What they don’t do, though, is they don’t give respect freely, then feel like victims when they are disrespected. It’s funny to my mind how I see the cycle repeat once more, though damning at the same time.
Funny weird, I mean, not funny haha.
The lounge itself is feeling more spacious, and last night I was finally able to get down on the floor with Hugo and play with him for the first time in, probably years. I felt a little bit emotional about that too, that I really had been all work and no play for so long. It was so good to have room for Matt to watch TV, and for me to play with the dog, and for us all to be happy. Even with the ottoman that I have coming today, it can be pushed back out of the way and I can enjoy a good ol’ tumble with the dog again. I did get a telling off though. Apparently, repeatedly hiding the tennis ball under my knee and then tossing it back in Hugo’s toy box as soon as he dives to retrieve it is not nearly as funny as what Mummy thinks it is. Who knew?
I also freaked my husband out last night, by showing the silicone cable holders that I had ordered for my desk, and that look like real wood. We have black ones aleady – on his desk no less – so it shouldn’t have freaked him out at all, except that when when I bent said holder in a demonstration of the silicone-wood mindfuck, my poor husband nearly fainted. Of all things to send my husband on a trip, I never imagined that a piece of silicone would be it!
“Have I got any mail?” Matt asks this morning. I’ve only just made it back to my desk with today’s post.
“Gimme a sec, my ass has only just touched the seat!” I reply.
“Honestly I feel like your… no, nevermind that” I decide. Secretary, I feel like Matt’s secretary. I know better than to tell a Dominant man that I feel like his secretary, though, for he will make it so. The jokes about me answering the phone are already written, given that a lot of people pronouce our surname wrong. If you’ve ever seen Keeping Up Appearances then it’s like that, except that people really do pronounce our surname wrong and I’m not just being posh.
We do have a castle in Scotland under our surname though, so you know.
“No, what?” he pushes.
“Your receptionist” I sigh. He grins. Of course the sadist finds it amusing. Of course he would.
“You know I have an account with Etsy? I can get a name plate made for your new desk, if you like? All nice with a polished brass plate with new your job title on it, just for you” he grins. Ooh, so you have chosen death?
“And I have the lube on my bedside,” I warn. “So, when is it coming?”
Whispers Of A Phoenix 
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