My favorite kind of day — gray, rainy, quiet. No one is outside, everyone’s windows are closed; all I hear is the sound of raindrops. I’m in comfy sweats with Beethoven playing on the stereo (yes, I like classical music). Because John is working late and I have Spanking Court tomorrow, I won’t be going to his house this evening. I will miss him, but part of me is relieved that I won’t need to drive 30+ miles in Friday traffic plus rain. Southern Californians do not know how to drive in rain; they either crawl along at half the speed limit, or they tear past you and send mini-tsunamis splashing onto your windshield.
John and I hadn’t talked for a couple of nights, so last night we played catch-up. Or rather, he did. He’d had a jam-packed week; lots of stuff at work (including being transferred to another department, which he thinks will be a very good thing), plus contact with a new domme, so he was all excited about that. I said little, just interjecting “uh huh,” and “oh, good” and so forth where appropriate.
Then he said, “So what about you? How are you doing? What’s new with your friends?” etc… My answers were monosyllabic: “OK.” “Dunno.” “I guess.” My voice sounded half-dead in my ears. Then John said, “Life is kind of flat for you right now, isn’t it.”
He knows. Flatlining. Gray. Blah. Sad. The specific reasons don’t matter; they just are. No work. Lackluster book sales. Upcoming holidays (and we know how much Erica loves the holidays). My mother just turned 90. For most, that would be a milestone worth a celebration, but for her, that’s just another one of life’s cruelties. Worries over people and things I can’t control. Blah, blah, blah.
I know I have a wonderful man, and a wonderful top. I know I could be homeless, penniless, whatever-less. I AM grateful for what I have. But depression defies this logic. Like I said, it just is.
Just knowing that John totally got it broke through the thick fog and tears started pouring. It’s weird, how I cry when I’m down. It’s an expressionless crying — no sobbing, no sounds, just a steady outpouring from my eyes, like I have mini-faucets behind each one and they’re stuck in the on position.
Bless his heart, he tried to fix me. Started suggesting all sorts of things I could do. It’s one of those guy things, I guess — I appreciate his caring. He did make one very valid point — I need some fun. Something, some sort of adventure, to look forward to. Something for balance.
So. How to achieve balance. Not sure. But it’s something to think about. Find some fun, something that will inject some joy and anticipation, bring the color back. We’re not talking anything monumental here, folks. Remember, we’re talking about Ms. Routine who has to mentally prepare for days in the case of a change in her schedule.
Speaking of schedule changes, ST can’t make it Monday, so he is coming over on Tuesday instead. Wow. Now you know how much I like him, folks.
Anyone watch The Big Bang Theory? I swear, in some ways, I think Sheldon Cooper is a long-lost (and fictional) brother. Not because of his genius level or his asexuality (I am no nuclear physicist, and I love physical intimacy), but his need for sameness and routines (and his anxiety when they are disrupted). They’ve never established exactly what it is with him; many think it’s Asperger’s, or OCD, or a combination of both. I love one of his catchlines: “I’m not crazy. My mother had me tested.”
Enough with this blathering. I got Chrossed today, so that’s good (and congratulations to everyone else who did also). I’m going to get a pedicure — it’s hard to feel down with sparkly red toenails. And I do have SC tomorrow; a fun final scene is planned. And hopefully, my as-yet-unseen new next-door neighbor will move in sometime this weekend while I’m gone, so I will be spared the hours of racket. Because, as you know, outside noises distress me as well.
Sometimes, it’s a wonder I don’t spontaneously combust.
Have a great weekend, y’all.