Staring

I am sitting, staring at the white canvas trying to synchronize my eye blinking with the blinking cursor flashing on the Word document. I don’t know what to write about this week.

Ramble. That is what I do the best. Last week was our first real week fully back into the swing of things. After almost a month of traveling, we were finally able to get most of the humans and pets back on some sort of schedule. Mistress Pixie and I required a few additional days of resting to recuperate before we were able to resume our normal routines.

No problem picking up where we left off. I have been routinely paddled for small messes around the house after the children go to bed. I am required to clean up after Mistress throughout the day and receive a paddle for each item that I miss. I maxed at 16 over the past week so not too bad, overall. After she drags me around the house beating me in front of the messes like you would a puppy that pisses on the floor, I am then tasked with cleaning up the items and then standing in the corner awaiting further instructions.

Last week I was pushed to take on a more disciplined butler role during our evening session. Mistress propped herself up on the couch and explained the rules while loading up the Olympics on the screen.

“When I give you a task, you are to say ‘Yes, Mistress’, and then perform a curtsey. When you leave my presence, you will curtsey. When you enter my presence, you will curtsey. And if you have a question, you will curtsey before you ask. Any questions.” Mistress explained.

I shook my head and respectfully replied “No, Mistress,” all while falling into a mental abyss of the proper curtsey method. I had to think about how to properly curtsey. I had practiced once before and was piecing it all together…

There she was with her beautiful brown eyes glaring at me.

“Turn around,” she stated while picking up the wood paddle. I stood for a moment shocked.

“I gave you a task and I didn’t get a curtsey. Turn around.” She impatiently continued. I was lost in my own thoughts, and it cost me another whack on my backside. I quickly curtseyed and completed the task. I patiently stood by her for two hours, curtseying at tasks, questions, and movement throughout my butler time. She shared her thoughts on Olympic swimming and giggled at my poor curtseying performance. Just a typical night in the Mistress Pixie household.

Curtseying to my Mistress is so belittling and embarrassing for me. I have never curtseyed in my life. That isn’t saying much as a white male in American society. I had to watch a YouTube video to learn how to do it. All the videos I found were performed by women. The gesture itself feels awkward and it makes me feel beneath Mistress. I mean, that’s the point, right? I am beneath her in every way, and she wants to make sure I know that, hence, the curtseying practice. The entire act of the curtsey dates to the renaissance era where women were to curtsey those of higher status than themselves. So, this requirement makes complete sense. If you haven’t tried to curtsey in your life, try it. Then, try it in front of the person that loves to make your back side hot and bright red.

That’s all for now. Until next time.