One small thing

There’s one subtle thing that happens in our little house. I’m not sure that the rest of the house notices it, not even Madame. Our core household is Madame, a roommate and I. We sometimes have more or less, but that’s the core of the household. The roommate is a dear friend and we’ve lived together before. In fact, I lived in her place before I ever officially lived with Madame.

In our schedules, I am typically the last person off to work in the morning. I’m the 9 to 5 person. The others tend to leave earlier. A few months ago, I started noticing that they’d leave their coffee cups wherever they last had them. On the dining room table, on the counter, on the butcher block, wherever. And I started gathering them before I leave the house. Just making sure all the coffee cups were either cleaned or in the dishwasher. No, it’s not a big thing, but it’s my way of serving my house. And yes, the other roommate is a woman – but she has not a kinky bone in her body. So while I may be serving the two women in our house by doing this small task, it is so far removed from any kind of female domination thing, but more a token of my caring for my roommates. It’s a token of friendship, affection and love that I quietly share with them. I don’t know if they notice – and they never need to. I’m happy to see their mugs scattered wherever. And I happily take care of them. I have some good people in my life and I happily take care of them.