Posted by: Marie | September 22, 2010

(406) Uninvited guests – Part 1 of 2

Post #406
[Private journal entry written on Monday, April 5, 2010]

So . . . I threw a royal fit today.

I’m really proud of myself.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard a knock on the door of my bedroom suite. I was running around in my suite of rooms in my pajamas . . . no bra . . . not really prepared to meet the general public . . .

When I opened the door, there stood my housemate, Susan, and a man I had never before seen in my life. The man had a big bag of tools dangling from his arm.

Now, I’m fine with either of my housemates seeing me in that state of dress/undress . . . but, I’m not okay with meeting a total stranger (a male one, at least) in that state.

Susan boldly stated, “Jeremy is here to check the furnace.”

Sun Moon Lake by Martin Chen

The utility room is located in my suite of rooms. We have an agreement that my housemates will give me reasonable notice when they, or service people, need access to the utility room. Now, if there is an emergency (like the sewer is overflowing, or the internet router dies in the middle of a corporate webinar), I have no problem with my housemates coming into the utility room without advance notice (well, they have to knock first).

But, bringing in a service person to do scheduled maintenance . . . “scheduled” being the key word here . . . without advance notice . . . is not okay.

It wasn’t the guy’s fault. So, I let him in and led him to the utility room while trying to keep my elbows against my boobs to hide their provocative swinging. Then, I captured the cat and put him in his kennel . . . and I slipped into my walk-in closet and quickly threw on my bra . . .

Then, I headed out into the common part of the house. Susan was busy with a client, so I meandered over to Erik’s desk . . . I mentioned that advanced notice would have been nice . . . he said he had been caught off-guard also and it had created some issues for him as well. (I guess it had interrupted an important phone call or something.)

I went back into my suite of rooms, Jeremy finished up and left . . .

I didn’t say anything more . . . just let it go.

About a week later . . . another knock . . . Susan was standing there with Jeremy standing next to her . . .

“Jeremy is here to do the maintenance on the furnace. It will take about an hour.”

This time I was dressed, but I was in the middle of reorganizing my hundreds of books and it looked like a tornado had hit my room. I had dirty underwear on the floor. I had dirty dishes sitting on my bed.

I was embarrassed.

Again . . . not Jeremy’s fault . . .

I let him in, captured the cat, made a futile attempt at cleaning up some of the most distressing parts of my mess . . .

With this second occurrence, I was a bit more steamed about the whole situation and I headed out into the common area of the house to make a stink. Again, Susan was busy . . . again, I stopped by Erik’s desk and mentioned that advance notice was important to me . . .

Erik said he would talk to Susan . . . he knew for a fact she had known about this appointment for at least a day or two . . . he agreed she needed to do better.

I didn’t say or do anything further . . . I hoped it was handled.

And then, today . . . this afternoon . . . I struggled with controlling my use of porn for masturbation . . . the porn won . . . I masturbated compulsively until I was almost late to my afternoon shift at the school district . . .

I left my suite of rooms a minute later than I needed to have left in order to “for sure” make it to work on time.

As I was walking out the front door of the house, Susan was coming in with some other man I had never seen before . . . an exterminator.

She said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you . . . Sam is going to be checking the foundation for evidence of termites . . . he will be checking all the exterior walls in your room . . . on the floor and in the dropped ceiling . . . ”

I stopped dead in my tracks. I absolutely have to be to work on time. I can’t be late by even a minute because we work on such a tight time schedule.

But . . . which would be worse . . . the embarrassment of having my housemates and this guy named “Sam” see the evidence of my masturbation strewn all over my bed . . . or the wrath of my boss for my being late to work . . . ??

[Continued in the next post . . . ]


  1. How hard can it possibly be to remember to tell you when service contractors are coming to the house???

    • I think the difficulty is proportional to the lack of empathy.

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