... doormats ...
i sent two of my favourite pieces of furniture to their new home tonight. Now it is official. i am definitely moving, but this move is more than just in the physical sense i believe. i think it started a long time ago, in my soul. It also means i have finally accepted that i did change a lot during this journey i started a year ago, with Master. And that i am ready to finish moving into "me", comfortable with who i am, and like being. So it is much more than just a new address.
i will admit however, that life in this house lately has been hmmmmmmm... a bit volatile at best. Even though the hubster has a nice on-going relationship with the girl of his dreams (or at least one who shares his love of Alice Cooper), he isn't making things very easy on the division of property stuff. So far the only acceptable conclusion to all of this, that he is willing to accept anyway, is for me to just go away and leave him with everything. Uh huh. Since when did submissive equal doormat? Roll over and play dead? Dishrag to be wrung and tossed about? As i continue to do my very best to remain calm (okay i have lost it a few times) i repeat over and over the fact that i detest fighting and bickering and nastiness of any sort. My first husband was most grateful for this and did a fairly good job at covering up his smile as the lawyer was telling him what a sweet deal he was getting. But this hubster seems incapable of dealing with any of what is happening without having the "she did this to *me*" crutch to lean on. So he pushes and pushes until i finally lose my control, which in turn gives him the power he is looking for.
No more. Does the phrase "how y'all like me now?" sound familiar?
Okay. So i am still venting a bit. And i am really not as tough as that phrase sounds. But i am tempted, the next time he gives me grief, to use one of his own phrases back on him. D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F? (It's one of those biker things i have learned over the years and y'all have to email me if you want to know what it means *eg*)
i have discovered that the house isn't haunted after all. i think i am a bit disappointed about that actually. But anyway, the Domme Daughter was over this evening, and as she was preparing to catch a ride to her fathers', she noticed what she thought was a cat, climbing down the balcony. Only seconds had gone by however, before she realized she was facing, eye to eye, a raccoon. A rather large one at that! i am guessing this is the same creature who created all the heavy sounding nesting activity above my head, the same night that Madame Butterfly died. And there is a broken window leading into the attic, which i am sure said raccoon understood to be an open invitation to come on in! So she did. i am assuming of course, that she is a "she". Gawd, i hope she isn't pregnant.
i kind of liked the idea of the place being haunted though. i guess i will just have to be content with Mrs. Smith, who lives in Master's house instead.
Where did all this come from just now?? Must be 'cause it is getting close to Halloween :)
Okay, and i will admit i tend to be a bit superstitious.