I’m slowly working on the Sue Allen thing and tonight I was trying to draw a parallel between the discomfort of losing the Civil War and the discomfort of being a medium for one of my characters. And as I’m going on trying to explain how some veterans like it–being a medium–because it lets them revisit death in a safe context, I found myself creating a dominatrix who worked in Black Bottom and who, before the War, would whip you for money and who, after the War, would beat you with the butt end of a Springfield rifle if you do desired.
And just like that, I think I have my retirement plan. I’m going to go from Civil War reenactment to Civil War reenactment being a period-appropriate dominatrix.
Now you’re jealous you didn’t think of it first, aren’t you?
We are as ready as we will ever be for Thanksgiving. Some family bullshit is going down that has me a little stressed, but it’s minor, typical crap, so I am trying to breathe through the ridiculousness. But you know me, I’m getting wound up and anxious anyway.
The Butcher’s friend who is a girl came to visit again this weekend and I just like the shit out of her, but I have to tell you, I keep putting my foot totally in my mouth. Because I want her to know that the whole family likes her, but I don’t want to be all “Get married, right now so that we can have you forever!!!!!” like I’m trying to brainwash her into joining a cult. But instead, I keep doing this dumbass crap like “Okay, even if you and the Butcher break up…”
WTF?! No wonder the Butcher doesn’t bring girls around here until he really really likes them. I am a complete doofus. I should just stop talking about their relationship trajectory at all. Ugh. I am just mortified. And overthinking things.
But it is good to see him happy. And kind of planning for a future. Last week he opened a bank account.
I guess living off the grid is good for your 20s but not for your 30s? I don’t know, not being an off-the-gridder myself, but it’s nice.