The things a girl gotta do

To get stuff done. Last week I had several doctors appointments. The first one to visit my surgeon checking how everything looks and if my drains could come out. These days while I may not have much to do except heal I still make daily goals. So my goal before the visit besides drink more water and try to make it from bed to bathroom without taking a break was to do all I can to get drains removed during this visit. They don't usually stay in this long but it's different for everyone. 

I talked about the drains before, they are stitched into the side of my body with long tubes that empty into these grenade type things. They need stripping, recording and emptying and stripping and recording and well you get the idea. Annoying. Not to mention messes with my fashion choice when I leave the house. I need to be super creative hiding them. I don't wear or own tent like shirts so that rules that out. I thought I scored and found a shirt that hides them well enough only to look in the mirror to see that tucking the drains in made it looked like I had droopy boobs (big sigh), and I mean droopy, like down to my waist droopy. Yea no, def not the look I'm going for. Ever. 

I waited holding my breath while they read the drain report card. She laughed a little. Not because this is a laughing matter. It's you record the times next to entry and one day I woke up late, at like 10am, and I wrote don't judge me next to it. Anyway she said nope not ready, stop using your arms so much. For sure I don't mop, vacuum or do dishes, everyone in a 10 mile radius knows I don't do this. Well, what else are you doing she asks? I suddenly remembered doing lots of cleaning counters and picking things up. I might have even swept the floor because I couldn't take it anymore. I felt the dust would move into one whole piece and attack me or something. So of course she advised well stop doing it, if you want them out don't use arms repeatedly. 

So I go home to tell my housemates the news and ask for a game plan. I live with cooperative helpful lovely people. They really are. The issue is me. You see my boyfriend isn't a messy man it's just he doesn't see anything wrong at all with 8 shoes piling up at the bottom of the stairs, clothes on the floor in our room or his shirts on chairs in the kitchen. Clearly it doesn't bother him. Once I came downstairs and his military bag was on the floor about half a foot from the kitchen, next to it were his pants still with the leg holes outlined like he dropped them and just stepped out of them. I never said a word. Why? Because it's my issue and not his. So I pick it up and shut up. I long ago came to the reality that if things bother me about cleanliness I need to make choices. Shut up and pick it up or leave it. I want peace always. Besides there's bigger things we can discuss nor do I want to constantly complain to a sweet cute man. It's unattractive. While in my career often times I have been "the boss" at home however I just want to be a sassy little kitty who twirls her hairs, smells good and wears lipgloss. But I got goals. So I have to employ methods to accomplish the mission.

Me: my handsome man, there's something really scary in our room. I can't go in there. I'm afraid. (Meaning his underwear and tshirt is on the floor)
Him: oh shucks sweetie, I'm sorry. lemme go pick it up.

Yes, yes of course I happen to live with a southern man who never raises his voice to me, says things like shucks and doesn't curse. Excellent! Truck driver Lolita tossing out cuss words left and right with nerve pain. I apologize constantly.

Me: Hercules (one of my names for him) I think there's spiders in the bathroom on the floor. I think they gonna bite me. 
Him: ok ok mami lemme go sweep while kisses me

Him: here my love here's your morning shake, how does it taste?
Me: oh goodness it's great! I bet you looked real cute making it (he def forgot a few key ingredients and I never once held my nose or grimaced while drinking it down) 

As for his shoes pileup? I haven't found anything to say for that so each time I go upstairs I wear one and kick them off into his closet so I'm not using my arms. 

Don't worry folks. Operation get the friggin drains outta Lolita or she gonna go loco well under way. Mission soon to be accomplished.