It's no secret that I'm no domestic diva. I have the potential, and the know-how and occasionally even the desire. But when it comes right down to it... I'd rather not.

I used to say that to my mom, and she'd be all, "Oh, Rayne, everyone would rather not. It's just a part of life, kid. Only rich people don't have to clean up after themselves." So I began plotting how I was gonna get rich.

The two areas of domesticity that I absolutely love are crafting and cooking. I figure they're both pretty similar. I mean, for both, one takes a bunch of odds and ends and throws them all together to make something awesome. Or not so awesome, as the case may be. And they're both if you're like me, something you put your heart and soul into. There's just something about creating something with your own two hands...

I love doing needlepoint. Master's taking me to the store on payday to pick up some yarn and knitting needles, because... Okay, you're gonna laugh. We go to the local Farmers Market every Sunday, and there's this lady who has an alpaca farm who's always there. She's got some really awesome yarn. Really awesome. And Master says if I learn to knit, and still like doing it, He'll buy me some!

It's no secret that I have a tendency to pick up a hobby, and then drop it because I get frustrated, or bored, either.

My lack of interest in service of the domestic sort has gotten so bad that Master's begun doing the laundry, and occasionally cooking a meal or two. It wasn't long ago that Him cooking a meal was super, super special. The type of special that you know you better make sure you fawn all over it, and thank Him gratuitously, and worship the ground He walks on. But these days, He tries to pick up a little more of the housework, and cooking, because... Well... He's one of those nutjobs who actually enjoys cleaning. Sometimes. The weirdo. And because He knows that month after month after month of cooking every meal, and doing all the housework, and not really having time to do the things I want to do ( which include hanging out with Him, having sex with Him, being able to spend time on the floor by His feet) because when I'm not cooking and cleaning, I'm working really starts to get to me after a while. In the I'm-a-total-bitch-and-you'd-want-to-kill-me-within-five-seconds-of-seeing-me sense.

Thank the Great Purple Cabbage for my man.

While I'm not a domestic diva, I do have quite a few domestic duties, as you can imagine. I mean, what person in their right mind wouldn't take advantage of having another person enslaved to them by having them handle all the mundane chores they don't' want to deal with? Rosie O'Donnell said it best in Exit to Eden when the slave kept begging her to let him serve her, and she said, "You wanna please me? Paint my house."

Though like I said, Master has been picking up some of the slack, the kitchen and bathroom are still "the slave's job", and I'm usually the one who takes care of the floors. I feed all the animals and clean their various boxes. I get up first, so the coffee's at least on when Master crawls out of bed, even if it's only for a few minutes. Breakfast is usually my job. Lunch, too. Any snacks, or baked goods He wants.

I mend clothes, and take calls, and work out healthier solutions to the foods we used to eat. I've become various different "fairies" in His mind. Like the toilet paper fairy. And the drink fairy.

But it's all because I know it pleases Him, not because I want to. I'd happily go find a service submissive to do those things for Him if He'd let me.