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My grandmother’s mirror, which used to languish in the bathroom and now hangs on the side wall of my bedroom, is placed such that it reflects the face of the man fucking me doggie style.
I didn’t intend for this to happen but I’m certainly not complaining.
The best part? I can glance up and see his face but not see my own. While I’d prefer it if I could see his face and at the same time spare him the sight of my own ridiculous orgasmic contortions, I acknowledge that this violates a basic law of physics. I do prefer strict obedience to all physical laws within the confines of my bedroom.
When I’m not gettin’ jiggy in my new bed, I’m enjoying long delicious hours of unblemished sleep in it. As per your advice, I purchased the best mattress set I could afford and paired it with an ultra-sturdy reinforced bed frame.
I hung something artsy on the wall above the head of the bed in lieu of a headboard. Unfortunately, I didn’t expect for my choice to become the kitties’ favorite toy; but as small strings, the children’s toys, pieces of fluff, and my eyeglasses have also been repurposed as kitty toys, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
My parents contributed a new comforter set. I pulled a chair, lamp and a few other things from the rest of the house into the room. Materials for the temporary headboard were gleaned from a going-out-of-business sale at an imports store. Except for the mattress, I spent almost no cash.
At the same time that I made changes in my own sleeping arrangements, I decided that my little ones were old enough to sleep together in their room for nap time. Thus, I folded up the small travel crib that had resided in my room lo these many months. I converted their cribs to toddler beds. We exchanged baby blankets for small comforters and pillows. All of us have new beds, but I think I’m the happiest about it.
It’s such a pleasure to fall asleep in a room that belongs only to me, that I share with no one, that I’ve filled only with the things I love. I was constantly annoyed when my ex moved extraneous items (exercise bike, treadmill, ironing board, file cabinet, office supplies, printer) into our bedroom. I want my bedroom now to contain only what I need for sleeping and sex.
Oh, and maybe for reading the occasional book.
I’ve taken so much pleasure in introducing my partners to my new digs (”See the restraints under the bed? And here’s where the lube goes!”), as well as going to bed early on my own just to enjoy the room. I straighten and fluff, making sure that things are put to rights before I click off the light and snuggle down with a kitty or two.
In the morning, I’m woken before the alarm rings by an influx of small people who have crept from their rooms. They can do that, now that they are no longer trapped in cribs. They leap on my bed, pulling free blankets and tossing pillows to the ground. They rip the throw off the chair and lose the page in my book.
Briefly I consider adding a lock to the inside of my door (or the outside of theirs). I’m all about setting appropriate boundaries for these little imps, but at the moment a lock seems unnecessary. No men come to my room when my children are home.
But maybe I need the possibility of privacy just for myself. Maybe I should reconsider that lock.
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