Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “heat”

Look up in the sky!

It’s the Summer Solstice! If you go outside, you can see the rare Strawberry Moon!

Or, you can just look in my living room.

StrawberryMoon

 

Yeah, it’s cheesy. I suck at photo effects. But it’s the first thing I thought of when I heard the term “strawberry moon.” I’m sure I’m not the only spanko who did.

In other news… today, my chiropractor was saying how well trained his dog is, how she never has an accident in the house, no matter what. He doesn’t have a doggie door, and he comes home periodically during the workday to relieve her; she always waits. I was properly impressed, and he said, “Yeah, that’s what beating with a belt will do.” I calmly replied, “You don’t do that,” and he said, “Of course I don’t.” I then added, “Belts are for consenting adults, not dogs.”

He laughed. I wish I could have seen his face, but I was face down at the time.

Yes, I’m going to hell. Wait, scratch that. It was 112 #$%&ing degrees today. I am in hell.

Steve tomorrow. Not a moment too soon, I’d say.

I am, therefore I bitch

Or is it the other way around? Whatever. I don’t care.

Cosmopolitan magazine (yes, I read Cosmo, shut up) has a regular feature they call “Bitch It Out!”, in which they invite their readers to vent their frustrations, aggravations and complaints. Not because they can do anything about them, but because they recognize sometimes it feels good to blow off steam and just maybe, others out there will relate to you. I rather like this idea, so I’m going to indulge in a bit of bitching myself. And after that, I’m opening the floor. Someone pee in your Wheaties? Having a suckfest of a day? Let go of it here! Have fun with it. You’ll feel better, I promise.

I hate the dentist. No, not my dentist, personally. He’s a decent chap. But I hate going to the damn dentist. I don’t like people poking around in my mouth. I don’t like having my jaw wedged open until it feels like it’s going to lock in that position. I really, really don’t like that nasty, poky little implement that scrapes and scrapes and scrapes. I hate the taste of that stupid numbing agent that’s supposed to make me not feel the needle, but I do anyway (and I hate the needle too). I hate the sound of the drill and the smell of teeth being pulverized by it. And you know what I hate more than any of that? How @#$%ing much it costs for the dubious pleasure of all this torture.

I had my annual dental exam today. I get my teeth cleaned twice a year and I observe all the proper oral hygiene, so my teeth are generally in decent shape. But when I was younger I wasn’t as conscientious, so I have a mouthful of crowns and fillings. Only one root canal, though. So far.

Last year, I got a clean bill of health after the x-rays and exam, and I exhaled in gratitude, realizing I hadn’t taken a breath in the past 45 minutes. Today, I wasn’t so lucky. Triple whammy… An old crown needs replacing, as well as a very old filling, plus I have a tiny new cavity. Fun fun fun! Dear teeth: You suck. So I had to make an appointment for two fillings and a crown; I am NOT doing this before the Shadow Lane party, so I scheduled it for the Tuesday after I come home. What the hell, I’ll be dealing with post-party drop anyway. Might as well throw in mouth pain and get it all over with at once.

The cost of today’s exam and the upcoming work? $1,145. And that is with dental insurance. What the hell are they putting in my teeth, platinum?

Funny thing about checking accounts — they don’t self-replenish. You have to actually have some work to do, earn some money and deposit it. Not much of that going on around here. So you’d think my damn teeth would cooperate and stay healthy, but noooooooo. Blech. Nothing I can do about it, though. I’m rather attached to my teeth, so I gotta do what I gotta do.

It was 108 degrees here today, at least that’s what my car’s temp gauge read on the way home. Have I mentioned lately how much I detest the heat? I don’t even feel like playing, which would probably do me a world of good. Ever notice how extremes in temperature either way are not conducive to spanking? If it’s too cold, you want to stay bundled up, not remove layers of clothing. And when it’s this hot, the last thing you feel like doing is exerting yourself. This afternoon, I sat in my computer chair and thought, “I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry.” However, it took me nearly an hour to go get something to eat. Why? It seemed like too damn much effort to get up and walk into the kitchen. So forget spanking. Six swats in and I’m breaking a sweat. And don’t give me this baloney about how women don’t sweat, they glow and look dewy. I’m not a freaking Southern magnolia blossom. I sweat.

It was a crappy day. Not a heartbreaking day, not a tragic day, not an earth-shattering day… just enough to make me cranky as hell. Forgive me and thank you for listening. But I’m all about equal opportunity.

So, something have you cranked out of shape? Share! Bitch it out. I feel so much better.

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