Keeping Going

Julian doesn't have to be at work until 8:30 on Sundays, so I took care of the morning chores and laid back under the covers next to Lady Miss Friday until it was time to wake him. I was kind of hoping his alarm would do it for me, but no such luck. Started his coffee and got him up - he went to bed shortly after me last night, but it was still a rough morning.

I laid back down after he left and stayed there even after Tim called. Bed gravity again. I eventually managed to get myself up for real and head down. Pupple was ecstatic to see me - it'd been nearly a month since the last time I managed to - but I sort of fumbled and rushed the reunion. It's fine. I debated bringing veggies for the ducks because they're well fed and I always feel awkward throwing bits of veggies *at* them instead of just putting out troughs or something, but I did end up bringing a few bags. We fed the coots early in the walk instead of the main duck run - for some reason the coots make me feel like Evita - but then went on an extended walk. Happy coots, happy Pupple, and I got to sort through some of the haze that settled the last few days. Even better, I snagged some pics of Pupple being held by Tim in the sun - the very picture of contentment.

Julian had a rough day at work, but he asked about mine before going into it. That confused me, but I gave a brief rundown before going back to his. Happy coots, happy Pupple, long, long walk. Everyone else called out today, so Julian had to run the place solo. Anafe still came in for something minor, and while she was in, she noticed that Julian's scent still evoked the booze and cigarettes from last night. My hoodie still carried the smoke from the fire, but that's to be expected since I was so close I nearly lit up many times, but the booze and cig aroma has happened before. Joao reprimanded him, but in addition to Julian's normal blame-phobia, working alone and exhausted made for a bad mix. He lashed out, but Joao eventually apologized. I don't even know what to call that. Is it luck? Charm? Charisma? We ended up fucking, which I think was pretty desperately needed. I don't think we had in the last 3 weeks, which also makes sense. I had some vague anxiety about hygiene - just wishing I was showered, freshly brushed teeth, that sort of thing. Maybe ironic, but I was pretty confident I could have bottomed. Julian opted to instead - both of us have size anxiety that discourages us from topping, it's just different "sizes" we're insecure about. I ended up cumming fairly early, but stayed more than hard enough and interested enough to keep fucking. Go me!

He napped after, I updated my journal from the living room. I was going to get stoned, but I couldn't find my G+ Spot, and since cheap weed is still sold out everywhere, thought it might be an opportune time for another tolerance break. Julian was going to make dinner when he woke up but never got around to it. I had nuggets *and* soy curls when I finally decided to eat. My total was less than 500 calories, but it felt like a decadent binge. Julian felt terrible but like....there's no problem. I keep explaining he can cook, *we* can cook, or we can just do our own thing. I'm easy. I think he's sort of decided that cooking is his contribution to the household, which would be complicated in any relationship, I think, but probably worse given my relationship with food. The man needs a therapist.