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Good Morning my loves. A warm hello to my new patrons and a huge thank you to the ones who are sticking around while I fumble through this bumpy transition. It’s getting better.
The groundhog days of February wherein time slowed to a standstill and I would shovel 8 inches of snow just to have 8 more fall, seem to have left us.First night in my own bed in a few days. That is a nice feeling. Both being away and back to it.
Walked in the door to no power. S’okay. Didn’t last long and I am ⅓ of the way through American Gods (the book), plus I was so anxious to get home I was the first girl awake in the house and got a nice long and hot shower.
Oh, girls house life. I think I kinda missed it.
Although the first rule of staying in a stripper house is if you decide you have time for a nap and the house has been quiet all day everyone else will wake up and invade the kitchen as soon as your head hits the pillow. I remembered a black out curtain and forgot ear plugs.
Once upon a time my room was this little dormered thing on a cracky street in Newfoundland. On government cheque day we could hear them celebrating through the walls, there were always fights outside at all hours. Inside our house was less chaotic most of the time. I got launched out of bed to stop a few fights and make sure the puking girl hit the toilet. There were enough beds for 15 or 16 girls. I had one of 2 single rooms, a reward for being the keeper of the keys and the taker out of the trash. My room was always too hot or too cold, too bright or too dark. The walls were the color of bandaids and my door was always open. The third floor was like that, unless we were sleeping or jerking off, there were rules.
It got hot up there so we had strategically placed floor fans and a pact to keep our doors open for the cross breeze.
Plus, I gave out the room assignments so I got to be in charge of who my immediate neighbours were…mostly. I rarely locked my door and was never robbed. The doors were so old and had been broken down so many times they barely shut right, I had a butter knife outside my room for the days I forgot my keys, worked just as well.
My room was the meeting place, the venting place, the chilling place and the safe space.
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