Laundry Service Revelations

Shit. I folded his clothes.

I’m not joking. I got within two feet of that soft warm heap of pants, shirts, tees, briefs, and socks, and my hands instinctively dove in like I’d done this for him a thousand times before.  Zero hesitation.  I paused briefly in shaking out a shirt to ask a quick question on preference and kept right on serving...In sheer fuckin bliss. SMH.

Context...I haven’t folded a man’s clothes in over seven years. Hell, I don’t even fold my own clothes. 

NYC's relationship with laundry is a bit different than most of this country's.  Between no in-apartment appliances and a sucky commute that eats an entire functional day a week, it’s NYC drop off service for me, please and thank you.  However, it's more than just practicalities responsible for the seven year hiatus, and there is a significance within my simple actions that I can’t ignore.

Truth | I essentially have a long-established hard limit: Unless there is an emergency, urgent need, or serious illness, I don’t do domestic vanilla service.

Now before you "DominaKat-Ain't-On-The-Right-Side of the Slash" crew jump up screaming "A-HA! Proof!" like a Trumpian finding a duplicate ballot, let me be clear.  I am NOT in any way, shape, or form opposed to domestic service!  I enjoy the rhythm of the work and deeply appreciate the satisfaction in the immediate transformation of chaos to order, but as with all forms of service, I consider domestic chores to sit at a deeper level and don't do that shit casually. 

We begin and end in our caves...a day, a trip, a week, a year, a phase.

Our caves, our dens, our nests, our house, apartment, room, abodes, domiciles, property, habitat, sanctuaries...if we are very very lucky, it is Home.  I consider access to that space an honor and a privilege—both in giving and receiving—and taking care of any part of it a sacred honor. 

 

It is where we gather and store our treasures, and those treasures tell a story. 

It is where we shit, piss, shower, shave, eat, sleep, hide, rage, orgasm, heal, fall the fuck apart.

It is where dreams are begun and built.  

It is where our energy dwells and is restored.

It is where we are most vulnerable, as squirreled away in the chaos and order and nooks and crannies, resides our deepest truths.  

Note | I was the caretaker of The Fortress of Solitude for many years, so my POV may be a bit more extreme than most folks.  

So why my hard limit?  I refuse to play fuckin house.  Unless there is a clear shared intentional vision to build something tangible and long-term in the vanilla world, I don’t do laundry, cook, clean, organize, maintain, etc.  

If we just fuckin and doing sexy service and temporary power exchange with our bodies…that’s what we doin.  If we are just exchanging Pain, then the scene is where we begin and end.  If we just engage at the community level on mutual projects, that's the level of our engagement.  

Given I predominantly have had relationships with poly men, there is very little tangible, long-term vanilla shit available to be visioned let alone built.  The poly crowd can argue those facts if they want, but the reality is what it is.  Married men have little to offer, and games of pretend or "What if?" have never been my jam.  It’s too damn easy to get into habits that foster illusions rather than truth.

Yet again…I blissfully crashed through another fuckin rule. This Man… LOL

~sigh~  But I'm realizing...when I stop fucking thinking, and just be and feel, and flow with the being and feeling, my deepest truths rise to the light.  But before I can stop thinking, I have to trust…the people around me, the environment, the energy.  

His patience, deliberateness, grace, kindness, and down-to-earth practicality have allowed me to surrender defensive measures that I have held fiercely in place to ward off nonsense.  Layer by layer He's peeling back my armor and seeing what few have ever earned the right to see, and it's been so long since I've actually seen some of these pieces, I'd forgotten they were even there.

Hi, more long lost pieces of Kat.  How ya doin' there?  Welcome back.  It's nice to see you.  Not sure what I'm gonna do with you just yet, but how bout we just be and feel and flow and see what happens?

Transformation continues...

~DominaKat