So I quit smoking.  It’ll be two weeks on Sunday.  And I promptly got sick.

I have this wicked, horrible head cold going on.  I”m sicker than I’ve been in a long, long time.  Miserable.

My nose is red and swollen and painful.  My throat hurts.  My sinuses are plugged and running at the same time.  Snot drips from my nose and I sneeze a hundred times a day.  My neck hurts.  My head feels like it weighs a couple hundred pounds.

It just sucks.  A lot.

And it’s really hard to be the least bit graceful in service when you’re feeling like a dog turd.

And, of course, I don’t get any real “break” because I’m sick.

So last night, we’re in bed.  I’d taken some TheraFlu and slathered myself in Vicks VapoRub and crashed.  Three hours later I woke up, my head pounding, my stomach queasy.  I figure all that sinus drainage was rolling down my throat into my tummy, making me sick.  But anyway…

I got up to get some juice and take an Ambien.  I figured I’d knock myself out with that since it was too soon to take more cold medicine and I was in a hell of misery.

And Taylor asked me to get him something to drink.

And I wanted to kill him..

So stupid.  I was up anyhow.  I was going back to bed where he was so I wasn’t going out of my way.  And all I could think was…  Dude…  I feel like death and you’re REALLY asking me to get you something?  

Just this out of the blue, total resentment that he’d even ask.

I didn’t say anything and I got the damned juice for him but it really hit me how the whole service mentality goes out the window when I’m feeling crappy.  How my mind reverts to “Dude, shouldn’t YOU be getting MY sick ass some juice and rubbing me with more Vicks?????”.

Bad slave.  Bad submissive.  Bad, bad girl.

*shrug*

Human, though.