Complaining

Okay, we're talking about the corner. The place where us naughty little girls have to go to think about our misdeeds and how bad we've been.

I find it incredibly boring to look at the wall, although at least my walls are purple in the room I do my corner time, which breaks up the monotony of white-ness. I find my mind wanders off to lala land and I start thinking about everything and nothing, like what I need to buy at the grocery store or how pissed I am at someone at work. It's difficult to keep my thoughts centred on what a naughty bad little girl I am.

Plus, it hurts my back. I get told a lot to get my nose right in the corner (hate to break it to ya but my cheekbones get in the way of that) and to stick my bottom out, and that makes my lower back start to ache.

And yet, whenever I start to catalogue my complaints about how much corner time sucks, I realize that it's going to be that much worse when my bottom is throbbing and hot, I'm crying and not able to breathe properly, and I'm waiting to be called out so that I can be punished some more. That's when corner time becomes a reprieve, a sanctuary that one wants to hold on to for as long as possible.

I'm just grouchy today because I still have two more days of punishment left until Sunday, when I can stop teasing myself and stop doing 10 minutes of corner time every night. That is, unless he extends the time. But I'm being good so I don't think I have given him any cause to do so. I'm just hitting that point of no longer having any fun obeying and yet realizing that it's not about fun and games; sometimes it's about sucking it up and obeying regardless. Especially a punishment - I don't even want to imagine how he'd punish me if I deliberately disobeyed a punishment instruction.