AlsoAlso

Another reason The Pedant’s tidying of my place is awkward is that he doesn’t know where I keep things* and, weirdo that he is, he doesn’t use his mouth-words to tell me that he’d like to help me tidy up and ask where things go. And there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what he chooses to tidy – like he’s not focusing on a particular room or on completing a particular task or anything. He just randomly moves things from the floor to…someplace that is not the floor.

And this is how my comb ended up in the cup with our toothbrushes** and a neatly folded towel appeared on my bed.

So at times The Pedant is in fact making more work for me because I need to undo some of what he does. And yeah, I should talk to him about it. But I’m a dork and I don’t know how. It would feel kind of uncharitable to criticize his efforts, but the bigger issue is that he’s not openly doing this stuff. He has not said “I would like to extend my submission outside the bedroom and into domestic service, a little bit” (although I’m fairly sure this is what’s happening). If he’d say that he wanted to serve me via domestic chores, I would then have an opportunity to tell him what I actually want from him and give him an “orientation” of sorts re: how I ideally want my apartment to function. But he doesn’t say it. And I feel like he doesn’t say it because he’s feeling conflicted about submitting further than he already openly does, ergo if I ask him what his deal is he’ll probably get spooked and withdraw. And I don’t want him to stop doing all these little nonsexual acts of service – I love them. I just wish I could fine-tune them a bit.

Also The Pedant does a lot of these little acts of tidying when I’m not looking. Which kinda reinforces the idea that it’s some weird secret we can’t talk about, and also eliminates my best option for gently correcting him. If I saw him putting my comb into the toothbrush cup I could just go “Oh, actually, I keep that over here” and show him. And it wouldn’t be particularly awkward at all and we’d go on with our lives with him now knowing where the comb goes. I never see this shit until after he’s left, though.

I have the weirdest relationship issues. :/

 

*Yes, despite my place being a chaotic hellhole, most of my stuff does have an official place it’s supposed to go.

**Lord knows I’m not much of a germaphobe but I find this offputting (I guess not technically because of germs but for the practical reasons of not wanting shed hairs all up in my toothbrush bristles).

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