I have high hopes for this weekend....but that's fairly typical....and usually by Sunday night, I've done a thing or two to regret having held onto such hope.
This has been a difficult week for me. Sir hasn't been in the best of moods and as a result, it's left me rather scattered. I've had a migraine for a week, my paycheck didn't arrive yesterday, and apparently he hated the Snow White costume that I wore to the Halloween party last week. I've got a lot to do, little time to do it, and I'm only motivated enough to drink coffee and write. I suppose that's something though.
We're supposed to attend a party tonight at Countess' house. I truly don't know whether I'm going to be up for it or not, and I'm actually toying with the idea of going back to bed for a couple of days, pulling the covers up over my head, and waking up next month when things will hopefully be better. But even I know that come tonight, I'll be itching for company....so the party will be a blessing. At least I'll be able to be with people. But no costumes. Sir's already told me that. Maybe I'll just wear jeans, sneakers, and an old tshirt and go as a vanilla.
I can't help myself though...I do have hopes for this weekend. I've spent two wonderful nights with Sir this week already, both of which were spent just being with each other; one for me and one for him, with both of us just needing the other for the comfort we have together.
I'm not feeling particularly bratty, flirty, or happy now though and I sure hope that something changes between now and tonight. I just can't get out of this headspace lately and it's making me sad. My main feeling is just of resignation of "whatever"....and that's not a good place to be. Not even gluing up a storm last night really helped...although it did get me a little happy for a while. Enough to be happy when Sir came online.
I spent the morning looking at some of our old conversations. That always makes me feel better. To remember that time when we'd just spend time online talking. I always fell in love with him like that. With his words. Hearing him through what he wrote, feeling him.
And that's what I'm hoping for this weekend I suppose. I really need to feel him again. Without having to wear a mask.