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“Fuck Me Or I’m Going To Do The Dishes”
I was rudely awakened by his snoring for the second time in the night and I just gave up trying to sleep. “Fuck me, or I’m going to do the dishes.” I said into the darkness of our room. No movement. No sound. Drat.
I went downstairs and did the dishes. I advanced the laundry. Checking the news made me gag. I smoked a spliff and had a coffee.
That early, even the dogs didn’t come bothering me. They were happy to jump into my warm, recently vacated spot in the bed no doubt. So, more laundry! One has to laugh and remind oneself it could be worse — we could have cats. (Yes, that is bait for cat lovers to come argue with me so I can remind them that dogs are the best. Fight me.)
I can hear the early birds in my garden peeping at one another and the first commuters of the day are purring down the road beyond. Summer weather has me all cheerful in the morning, thank goodness.
I have so many worries first thing in the morning. Sex is a way to take a mental break from the stress, but it isn’t a solution. Plus, we’re older and the first thing I really need each day is coffee. Don’t know what he needs, but today it was clearly sleep. Or maybe he just didn’t want to do the dishes!
But back to worries, of which I have so many.