Cancelling Camp?

I said to Peter, "The minute I click on this $450 payment for camp, something is going to come back and bite me in the ass, I just know it." (Whenever I plunk down a chunk-o-change for something like this, it always happens. I believe Murphy's Law is what dictates my life). Sure enough, the fit hit the shan. Took my dog to the vet Saturday because her paw has been bothering her, she's been licking at it for about a month, but I had no idea what to do for her. That little vet trip cost me $129 bucks...but at least I know she doesn't have Lyme Disease or heartworms, and those two ticks she had last month apparently didn't affect her negatively at all. I am thankful for that at least and now she's on Frontline, doing just fine.

Then yesterday I figured I should take my car in for an overdue oil change. The sign by the road said $9.99 and I thought, "wow, I'll bet a 1 or 2 fell off that price." Sure enough, it's only $9.99 if you get the fuel injection flush. Well, forget THAT, so I had to pay the regular price for an oil change. No big whoop really, and I sat down next to this really nice old guy, we chatted for the whole duration of our cars being worked on. He said his daddy said all the time, "this country SHOULD have a Depression every 30-40 years, because the two generations AFTER WWII don't know how to suffer, they don't know how to live without anything, and maybe it would teach them to appreciate what they've got." I have to agree with that philosophy actually. I told the guy I was born in the wrong decade, so I think like that too.

Anyway, I love old people. They teach me so much about life. And I'll be one myself soon enough, so I hope I can teach some people along the way too.

Anyway, so I tell this old dude, "You watch, I will betcha this mechanic dude will come back and, because I am FEMALE, will tell me I've got to "replace the WHOLE THING," or some such nonsense, to get more money outta me." He chuckled and said "Naw, I think these guys are ok." A few minutes later, Mr. Mechanic came in and said, "Ma'am, I've got some bad news..." I looked at the old guy and winked. He chuckled again and shook his head. I said, "Lay it on my baby." And he proceeded to tell me that I was lucky I didn't end up in a hospital, my brakes were THAT BAD. He took me out to my car and had me feel the inside of the roters, they were ridged all over...he said they were supposed to be smooth. The pads were rubbed raw, and metal was scraping on metal, he said. I'm like, "CHA CHING, I am screwed."

So I go back in, and look at the old guy, smiling, as I say, "So, I need all new roters and brake pads AND tires I suppose?" (The old guy chuckled again shaking his head), and the mechanic said, "No, we can shave the roters smooth again and put new pads on for you, but your tires are fine, we'll rotate 'em." The old guy winked back at me. I said, "Ok, so how much are we talkin' here..." And that little visit for an oil change cost me $252 bucks. Can you say CONFLABBID?? (A favorite swear word of my best friend's 8 year old).

I looked at the mechanic and said, "I mentioned that I was planning to go camping, remember?" And he says, "Sure..." so I said, "Well you just took all my S'MORE money man, how's a girl supposed to go camping in the wildnerness without CHOCOLATE and MARSHMELLOWS on GRAHAM CRACKERS?!" So he cuts me $25 off the price, but it was still $252 after that...I should have offered him a blowjob. Maybe that would have got things done for free, who knows. I did offer to paint the lobby of their little establishment, I noticed paint cans and rollers sitting nearby, so I figured, "nothing ventured, nothing gained," and tried to barter some free labor for a free paint job. He said his boss would probably freak if he did that. SIGH.

Anyway, I explained to the guy that I'm waiting for a new job to start, so would he take a check, and hold on to it for a day or two...because I didn't have enough to cover all that, and still LIVE through the week until my unemployment check comes. He was nice enough and said he'd hold it for a day, so I called Peter and gave him the sob story. He's a peach though, he has let me borrow the money to cover it.

But then of course, being the pseudo-Jewish girl that I am, the guilt soon set in. I told Peter, "I am cancelling the camp trip, to get a refund, so I can pay you back for this, and just plan on going next year instead." I figured, being the Dom, he would agree with this "pentance," but to my surprise, he said, "NO! You HAVE TO GO to camp...I won't let you cancel."

I balked. WTF? So I'm thinking, "Yeah ok, you just want me to go so you can live vicariously through me, fantasizing about what I'm doing while you sit at home with the vanilla wife all weekend..." Then I figure, "he'll never know if I go or not, I could make up a bunch of crap about the whole camp experience, based on what others have told me, and he'd never know the difference."

So all day long, my plan was to appease him by giving him lip service, "Ok Sir, I'll go, if you say so," but then getting a refund anyway and staying home, just to make up some juicy stories to entertain him with later. Easy enough. Eventually I would confess my sin, but it would be too late to really punish me for it, and even if he did, it would be worth it just to keep my sanity during all this stuff going on and just stay home all weekend.

I told a few people that I chat with who are also going to camp, that my financial situation was crappy at the moment...the new job I'm starting hasn't given me a start date yet, because the stupid background check is taking FOREVER. It usually takes 7-10 days, but it's been TWO WEEKS now, and I'm still waiting. GRRRR. So in the meantime, I'm getting unemployment, but not until next week. (Poverty sucks).

So today I get an email from my friend Aryan, telling me I should STOP sharing my personal life story with everybody, because NOBODY CARES...which really threw me for a loop, because everybody in the BDSM scene prides themselves on the fact that they "accept, embrace and celebrate" each other, no matter what. But hey, if they want to be like every other vanilla idiot on the planet and skim along on the surface of who I am, not really wanting to get to KNOW me, or my real life issues and problems, why the hell should I pay $450 to go sit my fat carcass around people like that, when I could get the same treatment from vanilla for FREE sitting on my fat carcass AT HOME??

I told Peter, "If this were an ALCOHOLIC BINGE weekend, that I've been looking forward to and dying to attend for years, would you still give me the money to go?" He said, "Absolutely not." So I said, "Same concept. An addiction is an addiction no matter how you look at it, even if it's not alcohol, BDSM is the same thing, it's a physical addiction, sure, but an addiction just the same." But he still gave me money today, telling me he "will not allow me" to cancel my reservation to camp. His reason was, "You've been looking forward to this for so long and fantasizing about going for all these years, now you've got the chance, I'll make sure you will go." So we had a long discussion about this at lunch today. Then he hands me money.

Then the guilt starts in again. And it has plagued me all day long. I feel miserable.

I counted on this new job to start by now, figuring I'd have a paycheck in my hot grubby hand as I trip the fa-la-la to hedonism universe USA next weekend. But noooo, that's not gonna happen---and it never fails, whenever I hit the skids financially, my dog takes a crap on me, (not LITERALLY, I'm talkin' FIGURATIVELY here folks), or the damned CAR takes a crap on me, or something hits the damned fan. It never happens when I am gainfully and happily employed with a decent income. (Murphys' Law I'm tellin' ya).

So I guess I'm going, but now I'm disillusioned by this whole thing, having to censor myself and not share my personal life around people that have no inhibitions. What a farce.

I'm all packed though.

Dammit.

So ok fine, I'll just go, and hide in my cabin, or go for walks away from everybody else, and just sit by the pool and read, or listen to my ipod. I don't want to be around people who don't give a rat's ass about me, if they want to flog my ass and play with my tits, they'd goddamned BETTER give a rat's ass about me at least a little, or they can just talk to the hand.

----Sassy Girl