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Becoming DomestiKitty =^^=

When I first met Master, he was pretty good at keeping his apartment clean.  Well, except for on the weekends during his wild and crazy parties.  He would always get things picked up Monday or Tuesday though, and by the time I got to his house on the weekends everything was spic and span.  Everything, of course, except for the dishes.

To say that Master hated dishes would likely be an understatement.  He despised them.  Even now, if the doctor puts me on bed rest and I’m not allowed to get up and do anything, he will not keep the dishes clean.  For Master, dishes get done as you need them.  So, if he doesn’t need the frying pan for three weeks, he won’t touch the frying pan for three weeks.  I’m different.  I’m anything but organized, but when it comes to things like dishes and laundry, I’ve always managed to keep them done.  Even before I moved in with Master, I kept things relatively clean.  Organized, perhaps not.  Clean?  Yes.

After moving in with Master, of course the bulk of the chores fell my way.  That is, the chores that Master constitutes “girl chores.”  There are certain things he doesn’t let me do, as he says they are “boy chores”.  I won’t argue.  If he wants to do them, he can do them.  There are only two I can think of, anyway.  Once we moved in together, I tackled Master’s dishes.  I was disturbed that it took me literally, over four hours to get them all clean.  And, I am no slouch.  I was tired and wet, and covered in junk when I finished, and I was also a little angry.  Why hadn’t a 32 year old man (at the time) figured out how to take care of something as easy as dishes on his own?  I was upset even thinking about him leaving this filth sitting around the house, and it took me a long time to want to do dishes again, though I did them anyway.

I have never been one who enjoys doing chores.  I’m not a “maid”.  I’m a pet girl, and a slave, but not a maid.  I’ve never found joy doing dishes or laundry, or sweeping or vacuuming, or any of the other things that you have to do to keep a house looking less messy.  However, I also don’t like living in the middle of a mess.  At the time, I was really most upset because I felt like Master wanted me to do something which he personally was incapable of doing.  That is something which has always bothered me from anyone.  You can dislike laundry, but still be capable of doing it.  Laziness or lack of interest in an activity is not a good reason to not do it, especially if you’re on your own.

Since then, I’ve grown leaps and bounds when it comes to getting things clean.  And, it wasn’t until recently that I began to enjoy it.  Don’t get me wrong, when everything is clean there are definitely other things I would rather do than to take care of the apartment.  There will always be more fun things to do than to clean.  Still, each and every time that I accomplish a chore, I feel a sense of pride.  No, there’s no tingle between my legs.  No, I’m not physically turned on.  No, I would not turn anyone down if they offered to come and vacuum or match socks.  But, I am beginning to find pride and joy in my domestic tasks.

It wasn’t until the last couple months that Master has really started pointing out my domestic flaws.  His domestic flaw is dishes.  While I do them now, he is utterly incapable of them when I am too sick to do them, etc.

“You know what your fatal flaw is, Kitty?”  He asks me on a regular basis.  Then, he inserts all manner of things: “You are terrible at making the bed.  You have no ability to stack anything properly.  You always mismatch these three pairs of socks.  Why are you so terrible at putting things away when you’re done with them?”

Since Master has pointed these things out to me, I have definitely made a big effort to get better at every task he says I lack at, and he points out that there are tons of things which I am really very good at.  Still, I will not give up, and I will become his DomestiKitty.  Having Master point out just how many flaws I have when it comes to chores reminds me that his one flaw when it comes to dishes doesn’t matter.  I am much more flawed than he is or was.  Anyway, now that we live together, the burden of dishes almost never falls to him.

I wrote a while back about how I am finding joy in my domestic duties, but it is far more than that to me now.  Now, it is becoming a part of my daily routine, in between shows, while my hair dries, even when Master is home.  It is getting to the point where he is having to command me to stop doing chores, because I honestly always seem to find something else to do, and I am spending less and less time even wanting to do simple things like relax, play video games, or color.  I have become DomestiKitty Supreme.

So:

Make Master his garlic tablets.

Hand-squeeze Master’s lemonade.

Sweep the hard floors.

Match socks.

Alphabetize the video games.

Windex the windows and mirrors.

Hand-scrub the floors.

Scoop the litter boxes.

Etc.  Etc.  Etc.

=

Find joy in Master’s smile when he comes home to a clean house. <3