Recovering

That's right, we are at DEFCON level 5.

For those of you have been playing the home game along with us, you will undoubtedly realize it has been roughly thirty days since I last had a meltdown. Therefore it will come as no surprise when I say that the PMS this month was particularly brutal, brought a fuckload of depression and angst with it, and they have bedded down in my brain for the duration of my period. N has decided that now would be a good time to scratch at a couple of scabs on my psyche, cut me off of all satisfying sexual contact, and lecture me about how I am not performing to His standards. For some odd reason, I did not take this all gracefully and I am about as friendly as piece’s furball from hell.

Telling surly hormonal property that they do not understand what being property is about is pretty fucking ballsy when you plan to put your dick in their mouth later. Jus’ sayin. That’s either an immense show of arrogance or a supreme lack of self-preservation.

That dinosaur either ate the last piece of chocolate or asked if she gained weight. Either way, he was asking for it.

So I’m going to go do the things property is supposed to do without complaint, thought or reciprocation, and pretend that it is exactly what I thought of when I knelt in front of Him and kissed His feet that many years ago.*and resolutely squash all the daydreams of fucking Him over and making Him smile and thank me for it.*

 

For more information on PMS and how it can manifest in women, head here. It has some pretty good humor at the end. 🙂

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