Did you miss me?
Sometimes, I run out of things to say. (yes, really) The past few weeks have been uninspiring, to say the least. Stomach virus. Toothaches. Lack of work. Last weekend, John had a raging cold, poor thing, but I went over there anyway, because I missed him and I didn’t want to sit home all weekend. And now I feel that sort of pre-cold nonsense; pressure in my sinuses, scratchy throat. Plus, I woke up today with a stomachache again, just like I had two weeks ago. Trying very hard to resist the 21st-century version of playing doctor and looking up symptoms on the Internet. No good can come of that.
I have not seen Mr. D in three weeks. He’s been through the wringer; first that godawful pink-eye in both eyes, and then his mother’s hospitalization. She is now in hospice, and it’s just a matter of days. 😦 But get this: Even with all he’s going through, he still called me yesterday and asked if he could bring me some soup or something. How sweet is that? I said no, of course. I’m not going to chance getting him sick, and I don’t want to add “care-taking Erica” to his list of responsibilities. I told him we’ve waited this long; let’s wait until we can get together, both healthy and unburdened, and fully enjoy some great play. I don’t know when that will be, though. I miss him. And the poor guy’s birthday is this Friday. Some birthday this is going to be, with his family situation.
John and I, after some discussion, came to the unfortunate decision that we can’t do Boardwalk Badness in Atlantic City this year. It’s just too expensive; we ran the numbers on the party tickets, the hotel room, flight, baggage fees, shuttle… too much. If we lived closer and could drive, like we do to Shadow Lane, that would make a huge difference. You know, it’s not that John can’t afford this trip. He can… but the fact that it’s John paying for it, not us paying for it, makes me feel guilty. My finances, in a word, suck. John makes good money and he is generous with it, with me. But I know, in my heart of hearts, that the spanking parties are my thing, not his, and it doesn’t feel right to me to ask him to spend that much for what is mostly my indulgence. If I could contribute to it, it would be different. But I have an expensive root canal in my future.
April will be sad, hearing about BBW and missing my friends. But I am resigned to it.
Usually, my Mondays are wonderful writing days. Yesterday, I went to the gym and struggled through everything, feeling winded and off (guess it’s that pre-cold thing). I wasted time running an errand to a place that should have been open but was inexplicably closed. Came home, flipped the kitchen switch and the overhead light went out. Got up on a stepstool, managed to unscrew the heavy glass globe and change the bulbs. But when I tried to wrestle the globe back into place, I fumbled and dropped it. Shattered glass everywhere. After that, I kissed the day good-bye and crawled into bed to watch Turner Classic Movies.
What’s a spanking blogger to do, when there’s no spanking to blog about? The past couple of weeks, I endeavored to come up with some interesting and interactive topics, ones that would encourage comments. But my views still dwindled, then plunged. I then figured, well, perhaps I’m trying too hard. Maybe I should just shut up for a little while, until I have something to say. Until I have something fun and fresh to tell.
There ARE good times ahead. John and I will feel better and have a wonderful Valentine’s Day celebration. We have an opportunity to get together with some friends at the end of the month, and that will help offset the disappointment over BBW. I’ll get some more work. Mr. D and I will reunite, I will take his birthday spanking and then some, and we’ll make up for lost time.
I’m still in the game, kids. Just down for the count for a little while.