Queen Liza sees all, Queen Liza judges all.
The words are like a chant, a chant going through my head as I sit on my knees and scrub the tiny handprints from the wall.
The towels clash, whisk one away. There's a smudge on the refrigerator handle. Gone. Check twice more. Still gone.
I don't care that she's coming. I'm fine. I'm relaxed.
"Relaaaax," says my husband in soothing tones. I nod. I'm relaxed!
I'll get to vacuuming if I feel like it. I don't really care what she thinks of my housekeeping. Well, I mean, that's only because I already know. She is a little amused by it, condescendingly amused, because I'm a little bit domestic and that's cute, but I'm not domestic domestic like her, even though her husband does all her dusting now and she gives cooking directions from the couch.
I'm down on my knees in front of that wall. Smudge gone. Another fading. Good enough. Move on. I normally only do this pose for my husband. And yet here I am, basically sucking the wall's cock, which means I'm really sucking my mom's cock, because she is here after all, isn't she?, here in the control and the power she has over me even when she is not even here yet.
One more hour til she gets here.
Submitted May 07, 2015 at 03:08AM by espatula http://ift.tt/1Qo071C raisedbynarcissists
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