I’ve been in a pretty big slump emotionally the past week or so. At least part of it is the dreary winter months of upstate New York. I was diagnosed with SAD ([[Seasonal Affective Disorder]]) when I was twenty-two (Who doesn’t have SAD these days?) and was told that I’ve always had it, it’s just become more pronounced since I’ve been up here. The only reason I can think of for that is in the south, while it’s chilly and the sun still goes down earlier, there are less gray skies in the winter. Or at least there was when I lived there.

In any case, between work sucking me (and Master) dry and winter depression, Master’s been pretty neglected. So, in the spirit of not letting SAD (or work) control me, today has been deemed “Spoil Master Day”.

I woke up and laid in bed for about thirty minutes with my eyes closed and my hands laying in the most uncomfortable position (but the only one that would keep them from aching and/or going to sleep) trying to convince myself that sleep is a good thing. When willing myself to sleep wasn’t working, I waited patiently for Master to mumble something in one of His brief waking moments so I could mention my plight.

“Mmmm, I love the baby more than the baby loves me.”

“Nope. Daddy, I can’t sleep anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I’m not tired.” And then He was snoring again. So I laid there for another minute or two, then gave up on sleep.

Upon realizing that I’d neglected to bring my book to bed with me (the book I rarely ever find time to read), I climbed out of bed intending to retrieve it and sneak back under the covers to read. Then I looked at the kitchen. And I decided the book could wait.

I pulled the first pack of bacon we’ve had in the house in months out of the freezer and put it in a bowl of cold water to thaw while I did the dishes in the sink and whipped up an egg mixture for French toast. I took out the steak in the freezer and put it on a plate in the fridge so I can make steak tomorrow for dinner. Wednesdays are one of my 6am-2pm days which gives me more time to spoil Him with a good meal. And I started the coffee brewing.

I watered the Christmas tree (which seems to be losing water rather rapidly… I wonder if it’s too dry in the house), fed the animals, and started heating the pans to cook when I heard Master call my name. After turning the burners off, I walked to the bedroom and climbed into bed.

“What’re you doing?”

“It’s a surprise.” an impish little smirk spread across my face as I snuggled into His neck.

“But I have to pee!” (the bathroom’s off the kitchen)

“Then you’ll just have to close your eyes when you walk through the kitchen.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

I heaved a tremendous (fake) sigh of disappointment and said, “I’m making French toast and bacon and the coffee’s already on.”

We laid in bed for a little while talking and cuddling. His favorite expression of late is “You belong to me.” and I think He said that three times in the ten minutes we laid there. ::grin:: Finally, I dragged myself away.

“I have to go make breakfast.” Everything was sitting on the counter waiting.

To most, this is the type of thing a slave’s supposed to do. To most, this is an every morning occurrence. Unfortunately, I don’t always have time to do things like this. On Wednesday and Sunday (Saturday this week) I’m out the door before the sun’s up. Every other morning, it’s a battle just to get Him up and out the door on time (and I think in the past year I’ve accomplished that feat twice).

We have to go shopping today and I’m dreading it. If I had my way, we’d do all our shopping the first week of December and not leave the house again until the middle of January (aside from heading to our respective jobs). But I’ve already asked Him what He wants for dinner and was careful to make no mention of what I’m interested in having beyond telling Him it had to be some type of chicken due to my forgetfulness. We bought a huge package of chicken and I didn’t freeze any of it. That would be why I try not to procrastinate. When I do, I forget I had something I needed to do.

I even cleaned my desk! To be honest, I was sick of having a six inch square of space in which to eat, write, read, etc. It’s easier to think when I don’t feel boxed in, I think.

Wonder if I can talk Him into decorating the tree when I’m finished with my morning chores.