…take a bite out of your freedom that’s for damn sure. But I like it.
I’ve been in the business for more than thirty years so I guess it’s safe to say, it kinda suits me to a ‘T’.
I find great comfort in knowing that, when I walk back into my house at the end of the day, there’s more than just the dog there waiting to stick his wet muzzle up into my butt crack just so he can relay his feelings of:
‘Mommy, you’re home, I missed you! Where the hell have you been all day? Can I have a treat? Where’s my dinner? Rub my belly! Can we go for a walk?’
Not that a simple kiss on the cheek wouldn’t do the same thing.
It may seem like a cheap thrill, and it is, but I’m easy. I’ll take them whenever I can! Time passes too quickly and cheap thrills don’t arrive on your doorstep all that often!
My theory is ‘when opportunity knocks, open the freakin’ door’!
Yes, this is my dogs favorite thing to do. On a good day he’ll nudge me this way from the front door all the way into the kitchen.
Don’t get me wrong here. I appreciate the fact that he likes my ass just as much as the hubby does.
Now, whether it’s that his nose is itchy, as it always is, or whether this is truly a sign of love, I don’t mind so much because I know he needs me, he cherishes our time together, and he can’t stand it when I’m gone too long.
Again, this is where the hubby and dog are similar!
Hubby also likes to push his nose into the crack of my butt, misses me when I’m gone, wants a snack, wonders where dinner is, loves to have his belly rubbed, then wants me to walk around the block with him.
Only difference here is that I don’t have to carry a crap bag, nor do I have to wipe the drool off…
Oh…wait…that’s wrong because sometimes I do. Sigh!
Yes, this is where two great minds think alike!
Over the years, I’ve come to the understanding that husbands are a lot like dogs. Their bark is usually worse than their bite. It’s usually only a slight flesh wound if they do in fact decide to take a chomp out of you, because guess what? They’re not going to do anything that would jeopardize their their butt-sniffing privileges.
They can be:
…as well as a plethora of other emotions.
Husbands master the art of ‘puppy dog eyes’ better than some dogs sometimes, especially when it comes to sex.
They’ll gladly roll over so you can rub their bellies and whatever else is in the region. Usually this is where the wagging tail comes in.
If you use your wiley womanly ways in just the right way they’re also easily trainable. You can bet your bottom dollar on that!
You throw them a bone and you can be damn sure they’re going to sit up and beg until that bone is secured tightly in their teeth. Or in hubby’s case, until the boner…I mean bone… is securely in your teeth!
Mornings are especially interesting at my house. We have this routine you see. It’s not always exactly the same but for the most part it’s our thing. It’s been happening for years and years.
I get up in the middle of the night in order to have some peaceful quite writing time. This is what I tell myself anyway, but of course I know the truth. It all boils down to menopausal instability, which includes those fantastic hot flashes, the inability to turn my brain off, and the sudden penchant for undisturbed housecleaning.
It’s exactly the time when I think of all the things I don’t want to think about.
If I slept longer than three a.m. I’d have to do a pulse check. I’ve made peace with this over the years because I don’t have a choice. It’s really not so bad, except that I can no longer stay up later than nine p.m. Some say this makes me boring.
I say to those people–Fuck Off!
In the middle of the night the world is peaceful.
The kids are snug in their beds. (Or on the couch, or curled up on a chair…)
The dog’s rolled over on his back on the couch in the den, his legs moving as thought he’s chasing someone or something, and hubby, well, he’s also laying on his back, lost in dreams with a big old smile on his face. Obviously he’s dreaming about me!
The best part of the early morning for me happens after the coffee’s brewed. I’ve got my electric blanket cranked to high. It always seems to be cold in my office so my son thought this would be a brilliant Christmas gift a year ago. What a thoughtful boy. I love it, I use it, and it serves its purpose wonderfully. I’ve discovered however, that if you sit on electric blanket long enough, you’ll actually put your vagina to sleep.
First time that happened I thought my horny had finally emerged, but upon standing, it was soon apparent that there was no feeling whatsoever, nada, nothing. Not even that pins and needles sensation. I tried touching it once just to make sure it was still there, and even that gave me no sensation. I no longer sit on the blanket. This is not a cheap thrill moment!
I have enough trouble pumping that sucker up to the point where it wants to see a little action, so putting it to sleep is the last thing in the world I’d do on purpose!
So, somewhere around seven in the morning I hear this warbled voice barreling down the staircase. It’s a cry for coffee. Yes, I’m a sucker (or maybe I’m the well-trained puppy). I stop what I’m doing and go to make his morning java.
So here comes the habit thing…
As I go up the stairs, I either hear the TV or I don’t.
If I hear it, that means that there’ll be no booty call. If I don’t hear it…well…that’s a whole different ball game.
That signifies it’s game on.
If this is the case, then I must decide on whether or not there will be a random grab from my underwear drawer.
Oh! To lingerie or not to lingerie, that is the question!
This is always a stab in the dark, especially if this occurs before the sun’s up. I keep my panties and bra’s in the same drawer. If you’ve ever made the mistake of trying to put a bra on in place of your underwear, well, ‘Ms Gina’ will end up looking a little like an Eskimo girl, sporting an Afro and lovely, lacy earmuffs. It doesn’t happen often, but it has.
Losing momentum sucks, right?
I guess at this point in our lives we have to seize the moment at every given moment!
That’s hubby’s theory. Actually now that I think about it, he’s always ready, willing, and able.
But, it has to be quick. I’ve got two kids to get out the door so speed is important.
This is where all those Evelyne Wood Speed classes I took years ago come in handy.
to be continued…