Self Improvement Contract II (My Red Notebook)

(...continued)

So I sat there, on the floor pillows, feeling rather absurd in my panties. But I continued to write diligently in the notebook he'd given me. My Red Notebook.

He walked around my living room, shaking his head at the clutter, ticking off so many things, so quickly, and in his brogue, that sometimes I had to ask him to please repeat what he'd just said. He obliged and never seemed impatient. He wanted me to understand, clearly, what was expected of me.

Now, my apartment is rather small, so I'm embarrassed to say that just within the living room there were 32 housekeeping infractions (of course they weren't infractions yet, but would be, next time, because I will have known better). But he was very thorough - baseboards scrubbed, windows cleaned, blinds dusted, bookcases dusted, etc.

"Now, Libby," he said, and sat down in my wing chair - after having to pick up my coat, "go hang this up, there's a good girl, then bring your pillow and your Notebook over here so we can have a little chat before I continue with the inspection."

When I was seated on the floor by his knee he asked me to read what I'd written, so that it was clear that I understood. When I finished reading, he began to speak in a deep, patient tone.

"How many infractions did you have in just this one room, Girl?"

I counted to make sure. "32, Sir."

"32 what, Love? You had 32 what?"

"I had 32 housekeeping infractions in this one room, Sir."

"And doesn't that seem like quite a lot for such a small room? For one small girl?"

"Yes, Sir."

It was incredibly embarrassing, sitting there at his knee, in panties, feeling his eyes consider me.