I know there’s smut somewhere, but it must be on his camera. My camera’s been full of puppies, puppies, and more puppies. There’s a whole lot of toxic cuteness going on in this house, and it ain’t me.

He told me the other day that I couldn’t have a gold star for keeping the house visitor-ready clean for 24 hours. Bah. So now I’ve done it all week! I want my gold star now, please. Have I ever mentioned what a crappy housekeeper I am? Once it gets messy, it stays that way for a long time. But once it’s clean, I can maintain it pretty well until he fucks me up for days and I don’t follow him around cleaning up after him. He likes a clean house, but he doesn’t doesn’t follow rules about cleaning up. (?!) I do not understand someone who doesn’t follow rules. Crazy.

The weather’s been cold and windy, but it’s showing signs of warming up. I saw bare ground when I went into town yesterday. I had a morning meeting and then M. met me in the afternoon and we played bridge together. We sucked! But we had a good time. It’s such a barometer of a good life. If we make time to do it every week, then we are doing something right. He says I’ve gotten better. He even complimented my play a couple of times. Woo.

The Facebook meme that’s going around is to put a photo up of you and your partner. I put up this one. I like that shot of both of us. (Quick. Jot down the date.) I think we both look very happy, and obviously in love. I love it when I feel loved, when I can see that he likes me. (He likes me! He really likes me!) I like this one, too. Look at how short his hair was! It’s longer than mine now, I think. He calls me cutie pie as often as he call me cunt. Cutie cunt. Slave cutie. Sometimes I don’t want to be cute. I want him to find me HOT, not cute. He says cute is hot, but bah.

I don’t think either of us look like this anymore, but I like it, too. It’s amazing to me how different we look now, but I remember feeling quite loved when we took the shot. Way different than how I felt in this shot. Jesus. Unsurprisingly, there aren’t a whole lot of photos of the two of us, mid-scene. Or post-scene, whatever.

I told him yesterday that I didn’t remember much about the last time we played. He said I could watch the video. I can barely stand the pictures. I’ve never watched a video. I can’t stand the few glimpses I’ve seen. That’s going to make them hard to sell, isn’t it? It’s much easier to sell something I actually enjoy myself, but M. says luckily I’m selling to sick-fucks like himself. All I remember from the playing that day is that he wouldn’t stop hitting my thighs and pussy and I wasn’t handling it well at all. I hate being hit on my thighs and pussy. HATE.