By now this post title is becoming so prevalent for me that I have created it a category all of it’s own. If you’re interested in reading more of my ‘The Games We Play’ stories, be sure to check out the category in the side menu.
Let it be said that playing games with me requires a certan je ne sais quoi. Confidence, but also cockiness and not arrogance. I need someone, or someones, who can match me well and play well. I can’t stand braggarts and I can’t stand sore losers. For me, good sportsmanship is sexy.
But also the confidence that you can beat me fair and square, because I like to be challenged and somewhere not so deep down inside I kinda want to be beaten. Beaten fairly, that is, if there was ever a thing.
And also a willingness to play dirty sometimes, because what fun is it if we don’t really challenge one another?
Anyway.
Today started off a bit like things have been lately, with me in something of a foul and stinky mood. I’m not repressing anything anymore, not really, but I was ruminating over a lot of things Worrying, overthinking maybe. Story of my life.
Right now I’m trying to be kind of gentle on myself, to believe that all will be okay and to accept uncertainty. It is hard, and for that reason I’m also being a little bit more forgiving on myself and not expecting too much from myself right now. Do enough, get done what you can get done, and what will be will be.
Have I overcommitted myself again? So anyway…
It started off with my father-in-law asking me if, if he took his curtains to a curtain shop, could they adjust them for him?
“At a price” I reply, “or you may be able to get some hemming tape and take them up yourself.”
I try to explain the process to him but he sounds unconvinced. I want to save him money, especially in the current economic climate.
I surrender.
“If you bring them up tomorrow, I’ll get some tape and I’ll do it for you because I know exactly what I mean” I offer.
“Yeah, okay I’ll do that then. Thankyou” he replies. I’m happy to help, but that’s now me blogging until 10PM today. A fact I could do without.
How about coming over Tuesday evening? Or I could just come up for a cuppa one day?
It’s Mum.
I find it interesting, because now I’ve put boundaries in place then she’s really keen to see me. Like, really keen! This is Mum in panic mode. I don’t particularly like seeing her like this, sure, but I feel good that I’ve put my boundaries in place and made her finally fully appreciate our time together when we have it.
I’m busy tomorrow, Mum is busy Saturday. Tuesday is Valentine’s Day and I’ve already made plans. I suggest Sunday instead.
If we do that I will be tired from Saturday night and I have to go out Monday so I will have to drop you back early.
Dear Reader, you know what I want to say to that. I don’t though, because there is a time for class and grace.
Okay, so do you just want to come up for a cuppa Friday daytime then?
I don’t particularly want my mother here tomorrow for sure, but it will stop her panicking and we can have a talk and a catch-up and I can reassure her. She hasn’t upset me, but I’m busy too and she has to understand that my time isn’t at her disposal anymore. Isn’t that what respecting one another is all about?
So like I say, I can be a tough bitch sometimes, but underneath it all I’m actually incredibly soft.
I’m trying, really hard, to cut down on the number of Amazon shops I make. I’ve stuck a little magnetic shopping list on the fridge now which means to say that, hopefully, we can reduce our shops to no more than once a week, or a fortnight, or even a month. Unfortunately though, the lounge robot vacuum needs to be replaced as a priority.
It’s not that Liam’s a bad bot – he’s actually very good – but Liam is really on the wrong surface for Liam’s bits and pieces. Liam is a hardfloor and mop kinda vac, he doesn’t have a roller for cleaning carpet. As a result, Liam’s carpet-cleaning capabilities (and navigational skills, for that!) are substandard. Liam also goes over each surface just once and bunks off home. For her part, Debbie goes and goes until she’s worn out. Debbie also has a roller and she’s from ECOVACS.
I’m already eyeing up a £207 ECOVACS roovac on Amazon. Am I an ECOVACS slut? Maybe.
“I’m treating myself” I say to Matt, “Soundcore earbuds, because the ones I got, I’m sorry to say, but they’re hard and uncomfortable. I like a soft bud.”
“I need a hundred from you as well, please” I add.
“A hundred?”
“For the robot.”
“Well, then I best get my money’s worth” he teases as he sits back on the bed. Dear Reader, you should know by now that I am never one to back down from a challenge.
“No Kitten, I have to work” he mutters between kisses.
“Sounds like a you problem” I whisper with a wink.
By now I have learned and harnessed the power of two little words, or three little words. Or, just occasionally, even four words.
“Breed me.”
“Breed me, please.”
“Breed me please, Daddy/Sir.”
Once deployed, it seems they are very, very hard to say no to. It’s a win-win situation, is it not? Anyway.
I further on the fact that I know my husband loves fucking me between virtual meetings. Since working from home, then for him fucking me between his involvements with religious folk has become akin to worshipping Satan himself. It’s his undoing, sure, but if I know what my husband likes then who am I to deny him?
For my part, I do move to escape the room in a less-exhausted state. Matt tries to catch me and I quickly roll onto my front. It’s safe for me, Wolfie doesn’t eat ass.
“Let me, Daddy’s hungry” he growls, biting my ass cheeks and the backs of my thighs. I suffer but I don’t move.
“Can you pass the antihistimine cream please? I think the fleas eggs have hatched already this spring” I retort. He swats me hard across the ass.
“You’re a brat, and a masochist!” he laughs.
“So… a Sammie then?” I grin.
“If I had time, Mrs S, I would gladly get this attitude out of you. but right now Daddy needs to work.”
I stare at him as my pout threatens to break into a smile.
“Do not say the thing” he warns as he presses a finger to my lips.
“Very well” I say as I gather up my clothes and head for the bathroom, “but you will remember this day as the day you almost caught Captain Q E Gotts*”. With that, I hop through the stair gate and I am gone. As I leave, I hear him chucking behind me.
“You’re such a little shitbag sometimes” he laughs.
Once I return from the bathroom all dressed and smelling lightly of coconut and vanilla again, I resume the conversation.
“So, like I was saying, that’ll be one hundred” I say coolly.
“Should only be a fiver, it didn’t last very long” he replies.
“That also sounds like a you problem” I wink. Alright, so it’s kind of a me probem, but then it would be an us problem if I didn’t do what my husband enjoys, so…
“True, but still” he argues.
“Want premium goods? Pay premium prices” I shrug.
He was never going to win this one.
*QEGOTSS is the abbreviation of the longest nickname I have – Queen Elena Goddess Of The Stripey Sockies, because of my love for stripey socks!
Whispers Of A Phoenix 