Saturday, January 8, 2011

Going steady with my bed

There is nothing sexy about stuffed sinuses. Perhaps they'd be better simmered in pesto sauce and served over wide, flat, tender pasta, both homemade with the freshest ingredients and enough sauce left over for the sadist to pour into the trough of my arched back as I posed on hands and knees declaring "To hell with the carpet!" Mmm... I can feel his tongue lapping the crushed basil and pine nuts off my skin, leaving me redolent of garlic.

And of Him.

But if I had the energy for that,
the energy for something as passive as getting down on my hands and knees,
I wouldn't be spending yet another day
in my bed.
In my nightgown.
Living on tea and corn bread.

(Trader Joe's has this yummy corn bread mix that I shouldn't eat because it's quite sweet but it is oh so good and I don't have an appetite for much else. Soup. I've been having soup, but not chicken soup because I used up the stash in my freezer months ago and how can I make more when I'm sick which is when I need it?!)

At least I feel vindicated about my decision not to go north for my mom's 90th birthday party. Because I really am quite sick. So now I have to work hard on getting well enough to go up to New York City next Friday for a big event there. (No. Not a kinky event. I don't go to kinky events. I don't play. It's not like that for me. Of course, if Daddy wanted me to go, or wanted to take me, I would obey. But luckily he's not into it either. Note that this is not a judgement statement. We just approach it differently.)

Occasionally, I've thought this would be a nice time to have a slave. Or a wife. Or for the fiend to send one of his other submissives to take care of me. Not that I want company. I just want to be waited on. Even my housemate is away this weekend! And I'm not that good about asking for help. Perhaps (and this occurred to me this very minute) it's because my mother was so smothering, overprotective, and over-concerned that I prefer to be independent. When I do need help, I tend to feel guilty. Oh, I'll ask for favors when it's unavoidable - like a ride to and from a colonoscopy or back from the emergency room. But still, I feel like I'm imposing.

Hmmm... being sick is definitely putting me in a free-associative state.
Listening to the blues is probably sending me there as well.
I think I'll let myself float there for a while.
Floatin' on the blues,
thinkin' of my Daddy...

Time for another nap.


Paul said...

OG, oh dear, how unpleasant for you.
I hope that you feel better soon.
Love and warm hugs,

MrJ said...

Always a poet!

Jen said...

I hope you get feeling better soon!!

I've been married to my bed for about a week too.

Allergies are a little punk.

Ken Mac said...


oatmeal girl said...

Thanks, Paul. It's horribly unpleasant. I've finally got the chicken soup cooking, but can't smell a thing.

Mr J - perhaps more of a poet now, since this virus has me feeling so vague. Les fleurs du mal aux sinus.

Jen - thanks. Hope you're feeling better. As far as my bed is concerned, I'd just as soon get a divorce.

Ken Mac - guilty as charged. Well, no. Actually not guilty. Shameless. And to anyone reading these comments, I'm going to post a link to this guy's wonderful blog called (G)reenwich (V)illage (D)aily (Photo), which is ever so stirring to this ex-pat New Yorker. And he also has a dormant blog with pictures of Buenos Aires, another of my former cities.

In any case, Ken, thanks so much for stopping by and leaving your calling card.

Liras said...

Helpers are good to have at a time like this--wife, slave, servant, tirelessly devoted friend. Pick one, any one. Just as long as the job gets done.

Hope you feel better soon.