I had the pleasure of Master’s company for an extra night this week and it reminded me that I’m going to need to adjust back into the ‘at his beck and call’ mindset when he finishes up working away from Perth shortly.
For nearly the last two years he has spent half of every week living out of a hotel room and I’ve spent the half of the week that he has been away pretty much doing what I want, when I want- eating when I want, watching what I want, going to bed when I want. I’ve grown accustomed to the ‘me’ time and I have a feeling that the ‘me-in-control’ feeling will be a hard habit to break.
Of course I’m looking forward to him being here more. There were times when his absence was palpable and I’ve really missed him. Talking on the phone isn’t quite the same and as an added bonus, perhaps his ‘black cloud Sundays’ where he gets into a totally feral mood on Sunday evening as he knows he has to be off again come Monday morning will become more manageable.
It took several months when he began his stint working away before I felt comfortable being in the house by myself at night. The poodle pup isn’t much of a guard dog these days, as I can generally unlock the front door, walk into the kitchen and start making myself a cup of tea before he will deign to raise himself from his slumber. I remember I came home from work one afternoon and couldn’t find the poodle pup anywhere in his normal sleeping spots. I got a bit worried as there was no sign of him so I looked outside – half-expecting to find him injured or worse – and finding nothing came back inside, only to find him head down in the toilet having a good old drink and blissfully unaware that I was there. He did look sheepishly cute though 🙂
When Master is home there is a pattern to what happens. This pattern generally involves him getting comfortable and me becoming his fetch and carry bitch. I’ve mentioned before that I’m not really into the whole ‘service’ side of things that apparently comes with wearing the shiny thingie, so instead of feeling happy to serve my Master and owner, I do a lot of teeth-grinding and generally getting very stressed.
I wouldn’t mind if all it was was the occasional making of a cup of coffee or something, but it’s generally 5 or 6 things a night and he is particular about every one of them in an ANAL with a capital ‘A’ way:
e.g. Coffee has a prescribed measure of milk (mid-way between 1/3 and 1/2 of the cup). Coffee must be measured out with a spoon (none of the shaking the botttle directly in the cup stuff). Coffee must be stirred vigorously so the spoon noisily clatters against cup. Coffee must be served with a prescribed number of scotch finger biscuits for dunking.
Another e.g. Crumpets must be defrosted naturally- no using of the microwave allowed. They must be toasted twice so top is uberly brown (setting off the smoke alarm is optional when one wearing the shiny thingie prepares, but mandatory when the Master prepares) and copious amounts of butter applied. If vegemite is being added, a consistent spreading must be applied.
So often has he said, ‘What did you do it that way for?’ in that angry, ‘you’re-a-dumb-fuck’ voice that I’ve gotten in the habit of asking a million questions and taking detailed notes about exactly what he wants including size and placement of things e.g. does he want tomato on cheese or cheese on tomato (yes, he is that ANAL) whenever a request for something new is made. Regardless of my preparations though, so often has he said that I’ve done something the wrong way that you would think that he would prefer to do it himself.
He also seems to have impeccable timing – I’m in the middle of writing a blog and the creative juices are flowing, I’ve just gotten out of the bath and my hair is still dripping or I’ve just served up my dinner and am absolutely ravenous when the, “BIIIIITCH!” call is made.
One other thing that I find totally and utterly annoying is how I’ve got to ask permission to go to bed when he is home. And when I ask, guaranteed, 100% of the time he will say, ‘No’, just because he can. When I ask to go to bed, I’m tired, I’m needing bed, I’m half-asleep and heading to grumpy-ville. Stringing me around for at least another 30mins or so while you think about it will not improve how I feel. Sometimes I like going to bed at 8pm because it’s cold and I’m bored and I can do that when it’s just me here. I hate that I can’t just say, “I’m going to bed now Master, goodnight” and be done with it.
Yeah, it’s going to take me a while to get used to the fetch-and-carry/ask-to-go-to-bed bitch scenario every night and this is just another example of how the reality of giving up control can be a tad annoying sometimes.
But all in all, I’d rather have him home and have the ‘inconvenience’ of being a slave, than the loneliness of living apart.