How to be a Better Hoarder

It starts out small. You don’t suspect at all. One day you just have a bit more stuff than space, more stuff than time or energy. So you make a pile of it. Maybe on the seat of a chair, a stack on a shelf, a junk drawer in the kitchen or a few things tossed on your bed while you tidy up the rest of the room.

Hoarding comes along easy.

That pile of stuff on the chair doesn’t get dealt with and next time you want to use the chair the stuff is in the way. A minor annoyance so you stash it somewhere else. A temporary fix, right?

Sometimes you may get caught up and avoid the start of a hoard. Usually you don’t. I don’t. I have a stash of unfinished work on nearly every surface available in my bedroom, most of the floor space is taken up with bags of stuff to do.

The rest of the house is tidy. Right now. I don’t live alone half the year. But, that’s part of the problem too. She is a clutter freak. Anything left out bothers her. I like having my coffee pot and the coffee grinder out on the kitchen counter. Why not, I use them every day at least once. I clean up any spilled coffee grounds or drips from the pot. There is no mess, just two pieces of kitchen gadgets out in open space. It took time but I’m now allowed to have them out.

Anything else I want to keep much be stashed away. This means adding it to the other stashes, stacks and piles of stuff in my bedroom. Stuff gets lost in there. It is a jungle or piles and stacks and stashes of assorted stuff I need or at least don’t want to have taken, thrown out or lost.

Ironic that I keep things here to avoid losing them when I’ve long gotten past the point of being able to keep track and find much any more.

Hoarding happens when you need to hold on to things and run out of better options, or space.

Don’t think this is taking the easy way out. Living this way is frustrating, for me more than anyone else. They may think whatever they like and they believe the problem is me. It is and yet it isn’t just me.

A lot of the stuff here are things other people want me to do for them. Tasks and jobs and demands I have not found time or energy to do. Do you know the old joke about a round tuit? Look that one up and if you ever do find that legendary round tuit please send it to me when you’re done tuiting.

I need to say no but that isn’t so simple. I won’t get into all of that. It’s an exercise in frustration to explain my need to be perfect and fix everything, do too much and prove myself to anyone who isn’t inside my own head. So, just know that it is very hard for me to say no to family and friends who ask for simple, small favours. I add their photos, their lists and assorted other things to my hoard of to-do.

I don’t think anyone outside of hoarders can understand the pressure of having too much stuff around them. It weighs on you, it pushes against you and it limits you mentally, emotionally and physically too. I hate having just a small path trough my bedroom from the door to the bed with the computer desk being along that same path. I can’t put my clean clothes away because I can’t reach the closet. I can’t start tidying up because I no longer know where to begin. It’s all a chain. One thing leads to another and another. To pull one string means pulling another and finding a place to put the first string before I can pull the next string. But, there is no more room to put anything.

In frustration I toss a pile of papers and old photos onto another stack of papers piled up on the floor. Another task demanded and no time or energy to do it. Another weight added to the pressure. Another layer added to the stuff I already can’t deal with! It lands atop the other stuff and I’m angry because this was demanded of me and I know I can’t do more and this is just more of more.

People think a hoarder is an awful thing: dirty, miserable, derelict. I’m not any of those things. Not ever miserable. I live my life around this hoard and I try to function in spite of it all. I can’t let go and give up the things in this hoard which I actually value. I can’t give up on the things I said I would do, even the things I never actually agreed to do. I feel pressure and guilt and anger.

A simple solution is to deal with some small part of it each day.

Seems simple enough. Until you start somewhere and get caught up in one thing for too long. One thing leads to another problem when you don’t have enough space to work in. Too many things are buried and it is frustrating to know they are there but out of reach. To begin finding what I need causes the moving of the hoard which means the things which were on top (the things I could locate) will now be moved and become the things I can’t find.

Hoarding is a trap.

During half the year when I live here alone I take a few days and then begin moving things out of my space and into another spare room. I get some clearance, some room to move and work. At first the release of having space and feeling hope again is just nice in itself. I haven’t thrown anything away but I have space again. Having space makes me feel I have some control, and can actually do something about all of it.

I make some progress. The hard part is choosing where and what to start on. Last time I began with clothes. I sorted out a lot of clothes I haven’t worn in years and those which I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing now that I’m no longer 20-something. I had them all ready to go to the Salvation Army thrift store. I felt good thinking some other woman would be able to wear those clothes. But, I got caught up in road blocks.

I was stopped from giving away the clothes because other people thought I shouldn’t just give them away. You can’t just give away something that still has value! Some day you may fit into that again. That dress used to look so great on you.

Isn’t that funny? I thought I was the hoarder.

I originally wrote this for Medium but no one is reading it there so I have moved it here.

Why the Need for Extreme Fetishes?

I don’t think people need a lot of the extreme sort of fetishes. What it all comes down to is him being at the mercy of my whim, desire, or mood. All a Domme really needs to do is put him at risk in some way and keep him wondering. I have so many scenarios in my mind for play in public, in private, with gadgets or without, using language or total silence, etc. There is so much that can be done with the simplest and most ordinary things. Just sit him in a chair, blindfolded. Whisper about what you might be doing. No way for him to know if I’m doing anything more than checking my email or not…

Men who can’t let go and insist on having a huge list of fetishes and then giving directions and instructions spoil the whole thing. They make it bland and predictable. As the Domme it becomes a role you play, like reading a script. After awhile you’re really just waiting for him to be done so you can go off and check email or something more interesting.

What if I Told You…

Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Friday September 05, 2003  

What if I told you…

I’m wearing a lace and silk nightie, standing at the open window looking out into the night.

I’m leaning back in my chair, pulling off my panties, putting them on my bed, on top of my folded up nightie.

I’m sitting here naked, teasing my nipples while I read someone’s erotica.

I’m planning to go pantie and braless tomorrow at work.

I’m thinking of how I will take my underwear off at work, in the car, tomorrow.

I’m thinking of a thick, long, bumpy vibrator I saw in the adult store.

I’m writing an erotic story and it’s making me…

I’m biting my lip while I give myself a really long, drawn out, delicious, shuddering orgasm.

I’m licking my fingers, one by one, sucking on the tips.

I’m tasting my own wet pussy.

I’m wearing nothing but a saucy little smile.

I’m thinking about something really naughty I read in Cosmo magazine.

I’m doing something really naughty I read about in a sex blog, tonight.

I’m typing with one hand…

It’s not easy typing with one hand. Guess I’ll just go to bed.

Thoughts of the Day

No man will ever have  a real appreciation for the day your period stops. They complain and make jokes about our periods, about the warm up and the start but they will never know the happy day of waking up and knowing it is over or, at least will be over that day.

I’m living alone right now. So on this, my day of waking up to find it down to a trickle, I can put away my maxi pads and the PMS pills. Usually, I always keep them put away. But, one nice thing about living alone is not having to hide away everything connected to my being a female as if it is all a dirty secret. Not just maxi pads, but my bras, underwear and my body itself. There is something seductive and fun about walking to the bathroom for a shower, wearing nothing at all and coming back the same way, just wetter. I can flick a towel over my chair and sit right here to drip dry. It’s nice getting dressed without struggling to pull clothes over your wet skin.

I’m not a towel dry person. I prefer to drip dry when I can. Usually this means I get dressed wet and then my clothes absorb the shower water. Not the option I like best. I don’t know why I don’t like using the towel. Maybe it’s part of not wanting to put them all through the laundry. Do you know how much it costs to wash towels? A whole load of laundry (because they really can’t go in with anything else lest you want fluff/ pilling over all the other stuff).

There are other good things about living alone, even if it isn’t for very long. I don’t walk around the house naked as I’ve heard others do. But, no one will make me feel guilty for wearing my nightie past noon. I like my nighties. They feel pretty, sexy and girly all at once. I don’t get to feel that way wearing anything else at any other time of the day.

I also get to leave dishes out until the afternoon. I don’t have to keep the kitchen counters bare of anything but the essentials. I can leave the coffee out, on the counter, right beside the French press. This would drive some people crazy with the urge to put things away, not me. I like leaving it out, handy, right where I want it to be when I want to make coffee. Why is this such a hardship for some people?

Just Because

Just Because: Originally published to Adult Backwash Saturday May 11, 2002  

Chris gasped in pain and surprise as his body was shoved into the wall. The newspaper and groceries fell to the floor. He thought he heard something break. Someone grabbed his hands and securely fastened them in front of him. When he attempted to look back, he was forced to the floor, held down by someone sitting on him. The breath knocked out of him, he could only try to buck off his attacker.

“Stay!” He stopped at the stern command from his Governess. But his mind worked, trying to decide if she had any reason to be angry with him. He could think of no infraction of her rules. He had done all the dishes last night. He had swept the kitchen floor just this morning before leaving for work. Every room was clean and tidy. He hadn’t missed a morning bike ride or eaten anything fatty for lunch in ages. He certainly had not shown her any kind of disrespect.

“Owww!” She grabbed his hair and yanked his head up. She pulled viciously and said nothing just kept his head in her grip. Chris began to wonder if he had missed an assignment somehow. Desperately he tried to think of anything he could have done or not done to have displeased his Governess.

A silky hood was pulled over his head. He could breathe and see dim outlines of the room and bigger furniture through the fabric. She tied it loosely around his neck.

“Please Governess your little boy doesn’t understand why you are angry with him.” Chris asked through the hood. His Governess was not one to punish him without cause. He had only asked about her ideas for punishment out of curiosity. Could she have taken it to mean he wanted more forcefulness from her?

“Stand! Do not speak again.” She stayed on his back, her knees tightly gripping his waist and her arms around his neck. Chris stood his Governess stayed on his back. She pushed her feet through his looped arms. Chris used his forearms to support her thighs. “Good boy.” She said in that soft voice that sent pleasurable shivers to Chris’s most sensitive parts.

“Trot!” She shouted, striking the back of his thigh with something hard and thin. Chris stepped forward in surprise. The next strike caught him just under his bottom cheek. He began a trotting as commanded.

“Turn left!” She ordered. Chris did, trying to go carefully, afraid of tripping over something and sprawling full length on the floor. If he fell, he was afraid of hurting his Governess as well. His Governess directed him around all obstacles. He thought he could get the hang of this horseplay. All he had to do was listen to her commands and keep a firm hold on her thighs. Chris could feel her bouncing up and down on his back. Her thighs gripped his waist and Chris was beginning to enjoy the sensation and the naughty thoughts that came to his mind.

“Faster! Gallop boy!” His Governess gave him light swats at each command. “Turn right!”

She continued directing him around the house with her commands to turn and use various horse gaits. She smacked the backs of his thighs until they were well beyond the stingy stage. The faster pace was harder and he was getting out of breath. His back was beginning to tire too. How long was she going to keep this up?

Finally she shouted “Whoa!” Chris was glad to stop galloping and just enjoy her thighs clamped around his waist. “Kneel down now little boy” Chris carefully knelt not wanting to let his Governess fall.

The hood was tossed off, the restraints on his wrists followed. When he could see his Governess, her eyes were dancing with laughter. She grinned up at him with her usual devilment and said, “It’s your night to make dinner Chris. But I will allow my noble steed to shower off first.”

She picked up the newspaper on her way, leaving him with the comment, “Wash out your doggie dish, the night is young Chris and we have only just begun.”

Chris was glad he had been wrong about something in the grocery bag breaking. He had decided to go gourmet for dinner that night so he was pleased not to have lost any of his ingredients. He didn’t linger in the shower and quickly put on comfortable clothes before beginning in the kitchen. Governess was sitting on the deck with the newspaper. She knew he liked to read it first. As he passed by the doors to the deck, she made sure to rustle the pages just to torment him.

He brought her a diet coke with ice in a glass. Just to show her he wasn’t really bothered about the newspaper, though he was. From her grin, he knew he wasn’t fooling her. She thanked him for the coke and patted his bottom when he turned to leave.

When dinner was nearly ready Chris returned to the deck to let his Governess know. In her hand she dangled his dog collar and matching leash. Without saying anything he knelt down and waited for her to put them on.

“Nice doggie”, she said, sliding his hair through her fingers. She pulled the collar tight around his neck and held it there a few seconds before buckling it. Two fingers inserted between his neck and the collar checked its fit around his neck. No matter how many times she collared him Governess always checked its fit. It always made Chris feel owned and cared for.

“What have you been working on in there doggie? It smells wonderful.” Taking his leash, she waited for him to stand and follow her into the kitchen. “Candles even!” Governess turned to smile at him, “Are you feeling romantic tonight my little puppy?”

Chris reached out and caressed his Governess’ back, just under her long dark hair. “You always make me feel romantic in one way or another My Lady.”

She laughed, “Careful little man, you know how I feel about your possessive names for me. If you have gotten tired of Governess you can use Lady but never think I belong to you. Actually, something more like Your Wantonness, or Your Loveliness or perhaps something simple like Your Majesty would be a better choice.”

“If it pleases you Your Wantonness”, smiled Chris.

“I think it does” she answered, laughing.

Chris waited at her chair, pulling it out for her when she was ready to sit. He did not push the chair in for her. He knew she did not like that. “May I bring dinner to the table for you now Your Wantonness?” asked Chris.

“You may”, she said. Noticing his dog dish placed at his chair she laughed. “Doggies don’t sit at the table little puppy.” Chris watched as she placed it on the floor by her chair.

Chris gave her his best winning smile, “I am a very well behaved puppy, trained by the best I might add.” Her Wantonness just smiled and shook her head.

Chris brought the dinner dishes to the table. He served Her Wantonness first. When he was finished, she pointed to his doggie dish. With a small sigh of resignation Chris filled his dish and returned it to the floor. With a last look at Her Wantonness, hoping for a reprieve he suspected wasn’t coming; he sat on the floor with the dish in his lap. At least she hadn’t made him put his face in the dish and lap it up from the all fours position this time.

Dinner took awhile. Her Wantonness was in a chatty mood. She told him some of the things she had read in the newspaper, sharing her thoughts. Chris was allowed to rise from the floor to serve her but he returned to the doggie dish on the floor for his own dinner. She played idly with his collar and his hair as she talked. When she appeared to be finished, Chris asked if she would like to be served dessert.

Her Wantonness patted his head “You have been such a good puppy, very well behaved. What did you create for dessert?”

“I thought you might like fruit salad.” Chris began to stand.

“It sounds delicious, fetch it for us doggie.”

Chris brought a glass bowl to the table. Her Wantonness stopped his hand as he was about to serve her. “Sit puppy.”

Chris knelt on the floor with his hands down at his knees. He looked up at Her Wantonness, waiting.

“Beg puppy” she said.

Chris lifted his hands into a doggie begging position. He made little whining noises and gave his best sad puppy look. She laughed and pushed a peach slice between his lips.

Selecting a few of her favourite fruits from the dish, she ignored him while she ate. Chris began making more of the whiny puppy noises to get her attention. At his first bark she hushed him and lightly smacked his nose. She waggled a finger at him which he playfully licked. “What a playful little puppy you are. Can you do any tricks?”

Chris barked once, moved away from the table and somersaulted for her. “Very good little doggie.” She held out another slice of peach for him. Chris licked all the juice from her fingers and sat back to wait for more.

“Thank you for a very pleasing dinner puppy.” Her Wantonness shared some melon from her plate with him. She leaned over the arm of the chair and looked into his eyes. Her kiss was gentle, slow and somehow it seemed a little sad. Her hand cupped his chin as she pulled her face back from his. For a few minutes she said nothing, just looked at his face and caressed the beard stubble on his chin.

“Now little puppy you are going to clean up the kitchen. I am going out for awhile. While I am gone you will not have the TV, radio, computer or anything else on. When your work is done you will tear up the newspaper and spread it over the kitchen floor. Just in case you are not as fully trained as you claim. Once you have done that you will stay there with no distractions.”

She pushed back her chair and removed his leash and the collar. “You will go to bed in the kitchen. I will not see you again tonight.”

“But why Governess? How could I have displeased you?” Chris asked.

“You asked me about harder punishments little man. I decided to grant your wish. I have given you time to enjoy my company, time to be teased, time to laugh with me, time to desire me, time to play rough and soft too, time to enjoy my touch and my voice, time to belong to me and with me. Now I am going to leave you, just because.”

Thursday Thirteen #22: Things I’d Rather Be Doing

I can think of a lot of things I’d rather be doing than going to work today. Here are just 13 in no particular order…

1. Being kidnapped for a romantic evening with someone I like even though he has awful bad breath and an oozing sore on his back.

2. Finding a winning lottery ticket even though it expired last week.

3. Shopping in my favourite bookstore, even after realizing I forgot my wallet at home and can’t buy anything.

4. Eating chocolate on chocolate cheesecake even if it means I will gain 20 pounds.

5. Backpacking through Europe even though I get chased by wild dogs halfway through the trip and never do get past Venice.

6. On a fancy, luxurious woodland retreat, all expenses paid… even though the blackflies try to eat me alive each time I step outside.

7. Being given a free year of Second Cup lattes even though I have to sit through several hours of a telemarketing time share scam first.

8. Getting up close to the wild cats in the zoo, really getting to pet them and feel all that fur… though at some point one of the cougars gets a bit too friendly and I almost lose an eye.

9. Finding a bag full of cash even though when I take it home to count (over $100,000!) there’s a deadly poisonous lizard at the bottom of the bag and I have to drag myself to the hospital for the anti venom or die in agony.

10. Riding a real, live dragon which I get to be friends with and travel around the world, free…. as long as I can hang on… it’s a really, really long way down.

11. Decorating a house of my own, my dream house and yard, even though it’s on right beside a really busy subway station in downtown Toronto where all kinds of litter blows into my precious yard.

12. Having my first book published and get a lot of great media attention but still flop mightily cause Oprah said she didn’t care for it all that much.

13. A free visit to the dentist, have all the work I need done free, for as long as I can sit in the chair while he drills into my head.

I think work is starting to sound better after that dentist thing… Hi Ho.. Hi Ho… It’s off to work I go….

Happy Thursday Thirteen!

An Exciting Day of Floor Cleaning

I spent today cleaning up things. It began with the kitchen, dishes cause I also had to make my own breakfast and coffee this morning. After that I swept and then washed the floors. I forgot however to include the bedroom and bathroom in the washing part. But, I need to get a second scrub on it tomorrow so, no big deal.

I put away things, papers and the odd book. I stacked and packed things so there is some small hope I could make my life small enough to go unnoticed. Sometimes that actually is a challenge. I tend to be a paper packrat. I keep clippings and whole magazines even. I keep books too. It’s so damned hard to let go of a good book. I think actually, though don’t tell them, it would be easier to let go of a fairly good man than a really good book. If the man was really good he’d supply a me with a bookstore to just take what I wanted. Or, a credit card I never actually had to pay. Oh, those dreams about winning the lottery! sigh

Anyway, stepping back to some form of reality… I washed dishes again in the afternoon cause no one came by to offer to make me coffee and clean the cup after. Why don’t people just come over and offer to wash your dishes for you? Wouldn’t that be a nice friendly thing. If you have new neighbours try that one out on them. Bet they’d be surprised. I wonder if they’d think you were really great or just really scary. The world is so weird these days.

I moved my area rugs around. A different pattern for the runway since I only have one hall, the apartment is pretty much a hallway the size of a walk-in closet. I like it though. It makes you feel you could just sit in a chair with quiet (non-screechy) wheels and get to everything with just a swoosh of your chair. I could shoot myself from one end of the apartment to the other if I rigged up some kind of elastic slingshot effect. That would be kind of fun and interesting. Of course, aim would be important. Hitting the walls would not be very nice, I’m not a pinball. I doubt the landlord would go for the idea of me coating the walls with rubber to bounce off of. Spoilsport.

So, after washing floors and dishes and things the only thing left to polish off the day was a round of clothes washing. So I did. It was a day of much soap and watery things. The last load is done and it’s just sitting there nagging at me to hang it all up before I am allowed to creep in under that pile of clean clothes to my snuggly bed. Clothes piles are mean and nasty things.

But I was thinking… how lovely it would be to have a male slave. Not for screwy, silly stuff like sex. Geez… who are we kidding, women can do that better without a man getting in the way. A man slave would start his day making your breakfast and coffee and then cleaning it all up. All you would have to do is smell it and eat it. By the time you arise it’s all clean and put away. You’d never know the kitchen was even used that morning.

Then man slave would be allowed to shower and whatever, leaving the sparkling clean bathroom for me whenever I finally decide to get up.

Yes, you knew it was a fantasy as soon as I wrote about a man who leaves a bathroom sparkling clean. It may sparkle, but it’s not clean.

So that was my kind of day. Cleaning up, coffee drinking and fluffing off with the computer. I did listen to a few CD’s this morning while the male slave was being delivered. Yeah, yeah… a grrl can daydream. A grrl does daydream, I talked to the imaginary male slave while I worked today. But, that’s ok, no one heard but me.