Beware-- this is the post about sex and kink that I warned you about in the previous post. If this subject makes you uncomfortable, skip this post. Seriously.

I'm part of the local kink community, the BDSM "scene", if you will. We have regularly scheduled get-togethers throughout the month, usually 3. One is a dinner at a restaurant, called a "munch". Munches vary from place to place, but basically it's a gathering of the kink community to hang out in a non-kinky ("vanilla") place. Another night, we have a "slosh", which is a gathering to hang out and talk in a bar or place that sells liquor. It's like a munch, but with booze. The third thing we do every month (with a few exceptions throughout the year for various reasons, always good) is get together at the house of whichever member(s) is/are hosting for a play party. What takes place at a play party is as variable as the composition of the group. The purpose of a play party is to allow kinksters to engage in their common activity, BDSM, in whatever manner they choose. Also, everyone brings some sort of food dish to contribute to the general potluck, so that's important. Like, really important. (Beyond being sarcastic, it actually is important, because coming down from an intense endorphin and adrenaline high after a scene can be difficult, and food goes a long way toward stabilizing you and your blood sugar and keeping you from crashing and burning. There are other things that comprise "aftercare", but food and water are important ones.)

Last time I attended a play party, I asked one of my guy friends there if he would flog me. His wife, kittymeow, was fine with it, as was my husband, so he put me in restraining cuffs on ankles and wrists and chained those to the St. Andrew's Cross, my face inward. This particular one is a double cross that's hinged at the top, and both sides come down at a bit of an angle so it makes a triangle, two sides of it being X's and the bottom a wide wooden base. He started with a smaller flogger, then worked his way up to a large, heavy one with lots of falls, or leather strands. Then he worked his way back down to the light ones, finishing up with a quick session of a whip-- my first time with a whip, and I was afraid that it would hurt me more than I wanted, but hawkeye has fantastic control, and he kept the sting minimal. He finished the session with knife play, after asking me if it was okay, of course. (Knife play is, btw, amazing and incredible and super yummy. Could just be his technique? Whatever. Amazeballs.) He also asked me before he used the whip, because that's the number one fundamental rule for BDSM of any kind-- Risk Aware Consensual Kink, or, put another way, Safe, Sane, Consensual. There is a lot of continual communication during any kind of play, whether it be impact play, like being flogged or whipped, or sensation play, like the knife, because the top (or "Dominant") needs to know where the bottom (or "submissive") is at with pain levels, tolerance, sub space, other bodily needs, etc. If you're feeling uncomfortable and want to stop, all you have to do is simply say so and it's over, just like that. No questions asked, no fingers pointed or derogatory comments aimed in your direction. A standard practice before starting a scene is to agree on a "safeword", which is a word or a phrase that means "I need to stop right now, this very instant!" It's important to have that in case you aren't thinking straight, or if your play involves a lot of "no's" (that don't actually mean "no", of course), or whatever might come up. Maybe you suddenly have the runs, or your trick hip just gave out. Who knows? At any rate, if the people you're playing/scening with are worth their salt at all, the option to quit at a moment's notice is always available with no repercussions. The top can use the safeword too, if they want, though usually it's the one enduring the pain that uses it.

Although I've not been a part of the local kink community (or any kink community) for a terribly long time (less than a year), I've come to really love and appreciate every single member. They all bring something unique to the table that makes up the varied composition of our group, and our group is fantastic. We have so many crazy talented people. Sadly, three of our number are moving away, one to be with her Dom, so that's a happy thing, but the other two, a couple, are moving because he received a new military assignment. They're engaged, so where he goes, she goes, which is killer for all of us, because they are pillars in this community, but especially for her girlfriend, kittymeow... I'm hoping that I might be able to step in and fill some of the gap that's left for kittymeow, the girlfriend/wife. We relate especially well because she's a chronic pain sufferer as well, so we understand each other on a level that others never will. The coming party has been planned for some time, and it's going to be a "Goodbye" party for our three moving friends. We haven't had a theme before, but since this is a special party Devil's Advocate, the fiancée, chose to theme it as a Masquerade Party! They've also named it Ragnarok, which I find particularly amusing.

Corey comes to parties with me when he can, but most of the time they fall on a day that he's working. Since his days off got shifted away from Saturday, he's not free to come. This time, though, he'll swing by after work, at least to pick me up, and so he can say goodbye. It's supposed to end at 1 a.m., but I am not alone in suspecting that it will run longer than that. Funny story: when Devil's Advocate saw the Robot's mustache, she made Perfect Devil grow one as well, which was fine because he was totally inspired by his 'stache anyway! Too funny ^_^ Anyway, I began running into the problem while soloing at parties that I wasn't sure what was appropriate behavior for me and what wasn't. I wanted to play more, but I didn't want to violate Corey's trust in me or commit a relationship infraction, so when I came home from the last party we sat down and devised a set of rules for when he is not at a party with me. The project I'm working on is to transcribe them to a cute, portable little piece of card stock or a card, or something, something I can take with me and refer to with ease this weekend. So far they are just scribbled down on a sheet of notebook paper, but I want to share them here as well, to give an idea of the etiquette the Robot expects me to uphold when he is not around. The rules go as such, without any particular order in regards to importance:

1. All rules apply to both parties unless stated otherwise.
2. No hands-on or oral genital stimulation is allowed in Corey's absence, giving or receiving.
3. If prior permission is given to allow stimulation, I must be wearing underwear during the act(s).
4. No penetration of any kind by others, whether toy or body part.
5. I may not orgasm by the efforts of anyone else but Corey and myself.
6. No kissing males, including MtF trans, but females are fine for mouth kissing.
7. No mouth-to-skin contact (i.e. nibbling, biting, etc.) on any location that can be covered by a mask or a g-string. This includes face, genitals, and anus.
8. Breasts are fair game at all times.

I picked up a gorgeous glass horse tail anal plug while in Wisconsin. One of the conference speakers discussed sex and disabilities, and at the end she passed out her business cards. She works at an "erotic boutique" that's feminist and education based and it sounded amazing, so several of us ladies went over to check it out, and we all came away with stuff we were really excited about. I couldn't put the tail down once I'd asked to see it out from under the glass counter, and I knew I would really regret leaving without it so I bought it! I got several other things, which I may or may not discuss in another post, but on top of all that I also picked up a gorgeous plus size teal satin and black lace dress/teddy thing. (Technically my mom did, but it was for me, so…) I had been freaking out over what to wear to the Ragnarok Masquerade, but suddenly I had an answer! I also went to the Fox River Mall and got a very gorgeous and sparkly purple half-mask to wear with it all, et voila! All set :) Here's a few pics of the tail that my friend took when I tried everything on the other day. (If you click the links in this paragraph, it'll take you to the website of the toy store, and the specific items that I bought from them. I think that in another, later post, I'm going to compile a wish-list from the store, Tool Shed. Everything I saw there was really quality, and because I support the store's mission, I'd like to buy from there to support them financially.)

 

Well folks, I'm all tuckered out. I'm not so used to typing anymore. In fact--little secret, here--I've already fallen asleep at least twice while finishing up that last paragraph! So good night to all, and may you have wonderfully saucy dreams.

I really think the antidepressant I'm on is helping me. It's a low dose, to be sure, but I just needed that little edge, that advantage over my biological inclination toward depression. The environmental stuff, that I can work with. That's where self-talk and positive thinking and working to free myself from the wounds of the past come in. But the biological? I've been at its mercy for far too long. Since going on the antidepressant, I've noticed that my mood doesn't fluctuate as widely as it did before. I didn't realize how much I did that, or how much effort I had to put into being positive, until it became easier. Not to say that I don't still struggle with discouragement... because the pain has been changing again lately, I think due to getting off of all of my fibro meds for one reason or another. At least I know that they were helping some, even if I was still not to the level of functioning that I would have liked. Unfortunately, the gabapentin makes me twitch (still having problems with that, though I haven't been on it in close to a week), and the Savella is too expensive. We just can't afford it right now. But hey... at least I'm not depressed about it ;)

C had the day off yesterday and friend M took him/us suit shopping. C got a very nice black suit, and I can't wait to see him in it when we go up for the wedding. I'm going to have to beat the girls off with a stick! Back off, ladies-- he's spoken for. In the evening, C helped me hang pictures and a decorative shelf up in the living room, so it looks a lot more cozy and homey now. I don't think I've mentioned it lately, but I love our little house. Now that the major stuff is all unpacked, it feels like home. I smile when I walk into our little kitchen because it's so cozy and clean and full of our useful little knick knacks and cast iron skillets and such. In the living room, our comfy couch is draped with soft blankets and every corner houses a plump, cushy pillow. The low table is situated at the perfect height to reach over for a mug of tea or a glass of water, and the couch is large enough to sprawl or cuddle, however the mood strikes.

I went for a walk this morning. Took my walker out and pounded the sidewalk for about 15 minutes, a 2 block radius. I was ready to be back home by the time our house came into view, but I'm happy that I got out and into the sunshine and fresh air. I've been longing to do that for the past week or so, but been in too much pain. I'm hurting today, to be sure, but it seems more bearable this morning.

I've been going through things in my craft room, finding the things to hang up in the living room and just generally trying to get it organized. (I also set up a bunch of my knick-knacks on the top of our "dresser"-aka snake cage- and it ended up looking like a pagan altar! It was completely unintentional. I just collect a lot of rocks and natural things... and daggers... and such. It's pretty and I'm leaving it the way it is, but it's just funny how it totally looks like I practice the old ways or something.) In going through my bins, I came across a lot of things that invoked waves of nostalgia. For instance, this picture:

That's me and my grampa. I am about four here, maybe five. Grampa has worn button-up shirts like the one in the picture every day of my entire life. (I have never seen the man in a t-shirt. Ever. He doesn't even own undershirts, I don't think.) So when I was growing up, I would measure my height by the buttons on Grampa's shirt. "I'm up to the third button now!" "I'm up to the fourth button!" I couldn't believe it when I ran out of buttons and started hitting shoulders, or his nose... and now I'm taller than he is. He's still a giant of a man, though, in spirit. A true father figure for me, and a safe haven in troubled times. When Mom moved down to Y and had K, we lived with Gramma and Grampa for a time before she met and married G (the one I put in prison), and Grampa and I developed the habit of taking walks in the desert together. It was on those walks that I was able to casually divulge details of the abuse I had suffered at the hands of K's father. (Also G. Same name. Must be a bad name.) Grampa was furious, but he contained himself because he knew that as a young child I would interpret his anger as being directed at me. When he talks about that now, I realize what a truly safe, caring, and gentle man he is... and I'm so grateful that I have had that influence in my life. He's like D in a lot of ways, which is maybe why I got so attached to D. 

I pulled out my guitar yesterday and began playing through my songbook, but when I played "Mountaintop", I lost it. I made it all the way to the last chorus before the memories of playing guitar with D, watching and imitating his chords, came vividly to mind. C came in and held me while I cried, told me it was okay to miss him and to be sad. I said I know... I just miss him so much. But I am glad to have known him. It is worth it to have lost, because it means that I loved... and he was so lovable. 

I am dreading the day that I lose Grampa. He's getting older, and has had several health problems in recent years, so I know it's coming, but... I don't even want to think about it. There's no point in worrying about it. I know it's inevitable. I just focus on enjoying him and Gramma while I still have them here.

Even though I have a hard time sleeping these days, I still enjoy lying in bed with C. Often, he'll roll over and pull me into a sleepy spoon embrace, his tall frame tucked around mine and his arm wrapped around my waist, my head half on a pillow and half on his other upper arm. If he rolls the other way, I will curve myself around him, cheek pressed to the warm expanse of his bare back and arm slung over his side. No matter which way we're lying, our legs always find themselves weaving and tangling together, feet caressing calves and toes.

Last night we carried my "new" "pantry" into the kitchen. It's just a tall metal cabinet with shelves inside and two swinging doors, but it used to sit on the porch of the apartment, and in C's first apartment before that. (I don't know where he got it, as it wasn't there when I lived with him the first time...) After bringing in the pantry, C began cooking and I sat on the squishy rug to converse with him.

I told him that I knew we'd be okay financially, and there's some things I can do here and there to save a few bucks, but in the depths of my heart I am afraid that he will come to resent me for taking all of his money... the way R seems to resent mom. (Honestly, I'm afraid that R will/does resent me, as well. I hate being a money pit.)

My siblings have, at different times, texted me about relationships. The first time, J asked me, "Love won't always be like this, will it?" This most recent time, the other J texted me to say, "Please tell me you are happy with C." They're watching us, waiting with bated breath to see if there really is such a thing as a happy, healthy marriage. I get that. I so, so get that. I seize these opportunities with my siblings to teach them pieces of what I've learned about life and healthy relationships, all the while affirming that C and I are, indeed, happy and healthy and not splitting up. Our friends are watching us, too, looking to us as both example and inspiration. Often I wonder how this can be. We are so young. What kind of examples can we be? But in a world that is riddled with the shattered corpses of unions and commitments, I suppose that a living, breathing marriage in fine fettle is a rare thing, indeed.

Hey! Hey! Hey!
I don't like walking around this old and empty house
So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear
The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake
It's the house telling you to close your eyes

And some days I can't even trust myself
It's killing me to see you this way

'Cause though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Hey! Hey! Hey!

There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back
Well tell her that I miss our little talks
Soon it will be over and buried with our past
We used to play outside when we were young
And full of life and full of love.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right
Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear

'Cause though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Hey!
Don't listen to a word I say
Hey!
The screams all sound the same
Hey!

Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Hey!
Hey!

You're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
All that's left is the ghost of you.
Now we're torn, torn, torn apart,
There's nothing we can do
Just let me go we'll meet again soon
Now wait, wait, wait for me
Please hang around
I'll see you when I fall asleep

Hey!
Don't listen to a word I say
Hey!
The screams all sound the same
Hey!
Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Don't listen to a word I say
Hey!
The screams all sound the same
Hey!

Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

We're 98% moved into the new house. There are just a few things left to grab over at the other place, such as the lamp and table, the stuff off of the porch, the cleaning supplies from the bathroom and kitchen, and the food in the kitchen pantry. There are some dishes and stuff, too, but C is bringing a box of those over tonight after work. The idea is that whenever one or the other of us leaves the house, we'll make it a point to swing by the apartment and pick up a few things. That works better for me than trying to do a marathon packing and moving session, and he's at work all day.

I like this new house. Yes, it's small, but I don't mind that at all. I'm used to living in small spaces, and what's more important is that it's ours. (I mean, I had plans to live in a tent for the better part of a year. Small doesn't bother me.) The living room is all set up, minus the dvd tower, and it's quite cozy. The cushy and comfy pillows that L bought for us go nicely with our "new" couch, a tan microfiber sectional given to us by M when his mother bought a new one, and the throw blankets that I've draped over the back of the couch are not only comfortable but handy for when my temperature begins to vacillate wildly. Everything about the couch set up just feels good-- microfiber couch with comfortable cushions, plump microfiber and soft faux-fur pillows, soft and thick throw blankets that feel good on the skin... It's my oasis of comfort, especially when I wake up in the early morning hours, too stiff and painful to stay in bed with C, but needing a place of comfort to rest and take my mind off of the pain. That has been happening almost every morning for the last 2 weeks, at least. I was put off of my routine the first morning I woke up in the house, and the couches hadn't been moved over yet. I ended up sitting on the floor of my craft room, but it was nowhere near as comfortable.

As hard as moving has been on me, and it's been pretty brutal, I've been more fearful of unpacking than anything else. It's easy to throw a bunch of stuff in a box, but it takes so much more energy to pull it all out and figure out where it goes. I was afraid that, three months into living in the new place, we'd still be stepping over boxes and rummaging through bins to get at our stuff.

I told C the first night, "I need your help to break down what needs to be done into manageable tasks, because honestly? Looking around and thinking about what still has to be done is seriously overwhelming to me." So two nights ago C informed me that the goal for yesterday was to unpack one box, do my laundry, and to pick up some stuff from the other house when I ventured out to run my errands. Ok, I can do that, and I did! That set the pace for my daily goals-- one box a day.

It's a good pace. I did a little extra yesterday, clearing off the dining room table and bringing the microwave in from my car, and I definitely felt that I was low on spoons when I finished that. But I had stuff to do, so I headed over to C's dad's place for dinner, dropped some stuff off at S's, picked up some stuff from the apartment, and did my weekly grocery shopping. I could feel a headache beginning behind my left eye when I left the house, and it had bloomed into a full whopper of a headache by the time we sat down to eat. I didn't manage to shake it until about 8 this morning. I guess I pushed it too much, because I barely made it home and got the groceries into the house before collapsing on the couch in sickness. Fibro flu, baby. It strikes when you least expect it! On the bright side, I got to try out my new bathtub, and I love it! I especially love not having to heat a stockpot of water on the stove to get a hot bath. Our water heater is big enough to fill up the entire tub with hot water without running cold! What a novelty.

This morning I woke early and painfully, as seems to be my custom lately. The sky was overcast, and I could feel it in every inch of me. (That's probably where the headache came from yesterday, as the weather started shifting.) My pain killers have been falling down on the job lately, though I'm not sure if it's that my system is adapting to them or that my pain levels have increased to the point where they're not touching it anymore. In any event, even a double dose doesn't do much but take the edge off these days. This morning I was feeling too poorly to mess around with that, so I took a triple dose, and you know what? That does the trick. After about an hour it kicked in enough that my headache went away and my limbs stopped throbbing. I crawled back into bed for a few hours and got the best sleep I've had all week. Now that I'm back up the headache is coming back, and the limbs are starting to throb again, but now I have a secret weapon. I don't want to use it unless I have to, of course, but... it's nice to know that I can still get some kind of relief if things get too bad.

So, today, my goals are simple. One box unpacked. One question answered on the grant I'm working on. (It's hard to do mental work when you feel poorly and your brain is all foggy. I'm learning this the hard way.) Make the bed. Get out of my pajamas at some point. Clean off the garbage can and do the few dishes in the sink. That's all. I may not even get to all of that, frankly, as I'm running low on spoons today. But a box and a question, those are the for sure things on my list today.

Spent all day yesterday and far into the night accomplishing moving tasks and moving furniture and boxes full of stuff over to the new house. C is determined to have it all done by the time his weekend is over, which means tonight. His brother D came over in the evening and helped to move the big, heavy things (like the mammoth, stone-insert dresser that I brought with me the first time C and I moved in together-- it now is the home for the very large fish tank, as it is the only piece of furniture strong enough to support it). After D went home to go to bed, as he had work in the early morning, C kept chugging along while I took a nap around 11:30. I woke up at 1:30 to find C still gone (setting up his desk and computer at the other house), but he came back shortly and we moved our entire bedroom over to the house, as well as most everything else but the kitchen and bathroom stuff.

C was worried about me last night, and said that he knew I was going to be hurting like crazy today, and that he was sorry, but there was no one else to help. I told him that I knew, I was doing it voluntarily, and we'd handle that when we got there. He was right, though. I'm quite stiff and achy today. We finally collapsed into bed around 5 a.m.

I'm disappointed, because I had forgotten (thanks, fog!) that there was an activity this morning, Beautiful You, that I was supposed to go to. Although, having gotten to bed so late (early?), there was no way I was going to peel myself out of bed in time to make it there at 9:30. Some things just take precedence, even if I am bitterly disappointed. I was looking forward to being pampered and getting free stuff. (Shoes! Clothes! Purses! Jewelry! Manicures! Massages! Haircuts! Waaaaaaaah!)

On the plus side, we got a new fridge yesterday, after a bit of finagling and running around. It was a whopping good deal, and oh my gobbles is it gorgeous! Stainless steel, side by side, with a fancy water and ice dispenser and everything! Sears was having a Memorial Day sale, dontchaknow. The up front investment is a bit of a hard blow, even though it was a very good price, but it'll pay off in the long run. We're saving hundreds of dollars. It's just that we're broke now, because it was an expensive investment. But C gets paid this week, which is good, because we may or may not have enough to buy groceries until then... Setting up a household is expeeeeensive. I can't wait until everything settles down and we can see what basic living costs will be here in the new house. But I'm not worried, because C is good with money, and he will make sure that I am taken care of. He is a family man to the core, and responsible as the day is long. He knew what a money pit I was when he married me, so I just need to not worry. (Still, I'm going to do my part to minimize expenses wherever possible, even more than I do now.)

Whew. Today has been a rough one.

I did a ton of packing yesterday, and then we moved it all over to the new house, so that definitely wore me out. On top of that, I had a doctor's appointment and a couple of errands to run, plus my last Spanish class, and I was already fighting major fatigue. I did not want to help load up the truck and move our belongings last night-- I wanted to go to bed!! But I helped my beloved anyway, because it would be a jerk move for me to leave it all to him. He looked over at me in the passenger seat and said, "I can tell that you overdid it today."

"You think so?" (Not sarcastically, genuinely questioning.)

"Yeah."

And he was right. I was hurting yesterday, but I woke up at 5:30 this morning due to pain and a growling tummy, and I could NOT get back to sleep. I was so frustrated! So I got up, ate something, and settled onto the couch with my trusty, newly-fixed laptop. After an hour or two, I dozed off and was able to get a couple more hours of sleep before my acu appointment. I wasn't up to walking, because even two painkillers hadn't dulled the pain to a "let's act normal" level, so I drove. That was a big tip-off to E, my acupuncturist, because I usually walk. When she saw I didn't have The Stick with me, she knew I was hurting. She did a more intense treatment on me this time, on my back instead of my front, and then my massage therapist worked on my back when she was done. I still hurt when I came out, but I felt tons and tons better.

I've been medicated today, but I feel funny. Weak. Like my eyes won't focus right, and my legs are going to give out... and this funny, weak, up-and-down feeling in my torso. I don't know how to explain it. But I'm tired. Sooooo tired...

So anyway, I came home and made some food, chatted with J for a while, then hopped in the shower with C and got ready for my next doctor's appointment. To the dermatologist! I got my stitch from the punch biopsy taken out, so now I have a neat little crater that's healing up quite nicely. It turns out that the blotchy rash-lesions on my chest are a fungal infection, and we can blame that on my suppressed immune system. Not only is my immune system compromised, but the dexmethisone for my adrenals suppresses the immune system, and the hydroxychloriquine is a suppressant of sorts as well. So the derm said that I'll probably see reoccurrence with this, especially while it's so hot. It's not unsightly or anything, but still... first acne, now this? I guess I'll just be battling my skin all of my life! At least it was clear and beautiful for my wedding pictures. I am unendingly grateful for that.

Also, I had my appointment with the lady doctor yesterday, and after describing that bleeding situation with her she put me down for a pelvic ultrasound. She didn't feel any lumps or anything in the manual exam, and everything else looked good and healthy, but she'd rather make sure that everything's okay than miss something terribly important... or even not-so-important. I'm cool with that.

After my dermatology appointment, I ran a couple of errands, saw my friends at the pharmacy (heh.), and then headed down to Mexico to try and hunt down a cheaper version of Savella for R. Bad news-- no one has it. Like, they've never even heard of it. Bummer :( But it was worth a shot, and I've found that I'm much better at dealing with the pushy vendors and the even pushier guys. I had one older man follow me for half a block asking if I wanted a Mexican boyfriend. We walked past his friend, who made sure to shout at me that he was single. Oy. I just kept walking, eyes forward, head high, no eye contact. Doing my thing, and ignoring them. There was a really nice guy in a safety vest that held my car door open for me, and stopped traffic so that I could turn around on the narrow little street to get back to the border. He was very kind, and I was grateful for him. I also noticed him tailing me briefly as I first began hunting for pharmacies, making sure that I was okay (because at the first pharmacy, the one that I parked in front of, some guys started trying to heckle me as I walked in). As I said, he was kind.

I was SO ready to be back home and collapsing into bed by the time I was finished with the Mexican pharmacies, but lo and behold... I got stopped at the border for inspection. I had to pull my car off to the side and sit on a bench while they went through every inch of the vehicle. I suppose it was the heat, but I got hit with the most incredibly intense headache while talking to the agent that directed me to pull aside for inspection, and it frightened me how sudden and shockingly intense the pain was. It was focused in my left temple and around and behind my left eye at first, but then it spread to my entire head while maintaining an emphasis on the left side. Any movement hurt, and it was kind of difficult to see. (Driving? Not fun.) When I was finally allowed to drive away and I got the air conditioning cranked up, it abated some.

I got home, changed, and collapsed into sleep for a couple of hours. Mercifully, when I woke up, the headache was gone. Now I'm just left with an upset tummy, an exhausted body (MOAR SLEEP!), and tendrils of a headache dancing through my noggin. And the twinging, painful frame, of course. I don't want to take more painkillers, but I may have to. If only I'd had the Comet I needed to scrub out the tub yesterday, I could take a bath now. But I kept forgetting it at the new house and only picked it up today. If only someone could or would come over and scrub my tub for me!! Alas...

I'm trying hard to be balanced, I am. I don't want to overdo it and pay an awful price, but it's hard for me to realize when I've run out of spoons, or when I'm working with diminished levels to begin with. C says that I have a lag in my energy levels, so that by the time I realize I've run out I'm already in the red. He's right, and I must learn to work with that.

My massage therapist gave me another "prescription" today. In addition to doing one thing each day that makes me happy (and makes me feel happy-- she emphasized that point!), I am to slow down on the packing, take more breaks, and make it fun. Okay. I can do that. At least she didn't forbid me to pack, like she came close to doing! I am definitely forbidden to move furniture, though... Nothing heavier than a chair. (Yeah, I totally ignored that two days ago when I was hauling boxes to the new house...)

So now I am laying on the couch, drinking coffee and tons of water and watching "Shall We Dance?" I love JLo, and I love Richard Gere, so this movie makes me happy. It makes me want to learn to dance. It makes me want to make C watch it so he'll want to dance so we can learn ballroom dancing together! :)

Yeah. It's been a rough day. But there have been bright spots, as there always are. I don't feel down, really, just physically trashed. I really just want C to get home, because I miss his face. And his presence. I love that guy...

Oh, and a major bright spot in the day? I've been getting very positive feedback on the Flip Flop Theory. J said that as she was reading it she was confused for a moment, as she thought that it might have been written by "a professional psychologist person", but when she checked she realized that it was indeed me that wrote it. So she said that I write really well, and it was well done. This pleases me. It pleases me greatly, especially since Miss J is a talented writer herself, and a fellow grammar nazi and etymology enthusiast. (Oooooh, alliteration! I love alliteration.) I am very grateful to be accoladed as a good writer, since it's a talent of mine that I'm especially proud of... and that makes me vulnerable in that area, and vulnerability is scary, scary stuff. So sharing my writing with the world? It's hard, but often quite rewarding. I guess I'll keep it up... :)

So I've discovered that I absolutely despise buckwheat hot cereal.

I hated it the first time I had it the other day, but I thought, "Hey, maybe I did it wrong. I'll give it another shot before I condemn it."

Alas, no. It is intrinsically gross. The only good thing about that bowl of buckwheat cereal I choked down was the butter and maple syrup I put into it. It was kind of like a really disgusting liquid pancake. When I do the butter and syrup thing with rice grits, it tastes like a liquid pancake-- pure heaven! I have to be careful how much butter I put in, though, because apparently I'm secretly either Southern or French and it's really easy for me to just load it in there.

In other news, I carted a bunch of stuff over to the new house, and I cleaned it all up so it's now move-in ready. Next move is packing boxes full of the things that we aren't using and taking those over. I need to stop being so picky about organizing everything before I begin to pack it, because that's just spending extra time. I should organize and sort while I pack, then I'm getting two birds with one stone! And as far as packing materials go, we don't have any newspaper or such... but we do have an abundance of towels, and I just picked up a couple sets of sheets, so I'll just use those. Then, when we unpack everything, I can just store the towels and sheets on the shelves I'm going to put up above the washer and dryer. We have no cupboards or linen closet for that, so I had to get a little creative.

I'm excited to be nesting and settling down in my little house. Apparently C took his brother and some others over to the house last week to show it off, so it would seem that he's excited, too.

More than just the house itself, I'm excited about what it symbolizes for me. To me, it symbolizes the life that C and I are building together, the solid foundation of "us" that we're working from that can weather any storm. Our life together has not been what we thought it would be, but it is better than I could have imagined. I love that man so very much, and I'm so happy and proud to be setting up the house that I will be sharing with him for many days (and years?) to come.

I have requested (and C agreed) that we have a celebratory barbecue once the house is all moved and settled into... Kind of like a housewarming party in reverse. Like, "here, let us give you food and show you how grateful we are for all the support you've given us... and for helping us move." 'Cause the guys are totally going to help us move the furniture, that's just a given.

Packing for the honeymoon! ^_^

C came up with the idea to create and install footrests on my walker, so that if/when I get too fatigued to walk around anymore at our destinations, I can sit on the seat and he'll push me around. He's also the one that reminded me to bring a pillow to sit on. That man takes such good care of me! (Also, side note: apparently adult strollers are a thing. C joked about it, I googled it, and sure enough... they're basically wheelchairs with more framing and some straps.)

Got a new prescription for an increased amount of painkillers today, which relieves my fear of running out of painkillers on the honeymoon. I had to go in and talk to the receptionist to make it happen, but that's a very small price to pay.

I wired "my portion" of the house funds (the money given to me by others and accumulated in my bank account) into C's escrow account this morning. The lady that "helped" us was singularly unhelpful and frustrating, but we got it done anyway. This means that we have enough to cover our end of closing costs. Hallelujah! We're getting a house! And such a neat little house it is, too... Maybe I'm just biased, because it's my first house.

The guys are moving a new couch set into the apartment right now, except it's a giant sectional and too big for the front door's sharp angle into the house... so they are having to walk it all the way around the apartment complex and take it in through the porch's sliding glass door. Poor guys. But it's a nice couch, and we're getting it for free from one of the guys' parents, so SCORE! It'll do nicely in our new home.

I started growing my hair out over a year ago as a challenge to myself, because it hadn't been long in so very long. Then, when I got engaged, I knew for certain that I wanted long hair on my wedding day. Well, the thing is that when I do the same thing for lengths of time, I get antsy. The same goes for my hairstyle. It hadn't really changed in over a year, except to get longer and get trimmed and such. As the wedding approached, I found myself wanting to do something new, something different. I (barely) forced myself to wait until after the wedding, but now...

...a brunette bob! J says I look tired in this pic, and I probably do, but I thought I looked pretty good! :) Considering the flare I've been in, I look better here than I have since the wedding day.

Anyway, off to pack some more. I got to rest a bit while writing this, so it's back to the grindstone I go.