That is a short nod to the amazing group of lady friends who have cooked for us the last week. There are a few of you who could take executive chef jobs if you wanted to. I'd like to personally thank you for showing my children what a mediocre cook their mother really is. You gals rock.
Today, my little gal Chloe (sporting her readers in the photo above) will hopefully have more alone time on the tuffet she's been kind enough to share. I am headed in to the doctor's office to have the last two drains pulled out. Ahhh. They have been doing their job, for which I am grateful. But they need to go. They are cumbersome, don't do much for you in the wardrobe department, and too closely resemble jellyfish tenticles for my personal taste.
When the drains go, I also get my car keys back. I have new respect for folks who for whatever reason, lose their mobility via car transportation. To be so dependent on others for the simplest of necessities is to say the least, humbling.
Take for instance when we needed toilet paper last week. I told the Muffin Man, dude running low could you help a girl out and pick up some toilet paper? He forgot. Next day comes along and we have no toilet paper in 2 of 2 1/2 bathrooms. I again ask for him to stop off and pick some up so I don't have to call a neighbor to ask if they can spare a square. He forgot. I'm left contemplating calling one of my girlfriends, explaining how my husband can remember steak sauce but not toilet paper and how I need her to go run my most basic of needs errands for me. But, then I had a flash forward moment about how this would be hilarious fodder for the next 16 years worth of girls weekend topics of discussion when we'd all be sitting up at the lake sipping too many skinny vodkas. I had to lean a bit harder on the Muffin Man.
Next morning rolls around and he is all bright eyed and bushy tailed in his nice work button down shirt getting ready to head downtown. I meet him glaring in his office, toilet paper is now in an emergency situation. I don't care if you have to go to the CVS one mile from our house making you late for work and spend $37, just get some! To which he promptly hopped in his jeep and did just that, over spending on emergency toilet paper at the convenience store. Good God, I miss my Volvo.
In addition to saying sayonara to the drains promptly at 11:40 this morning, I will also be getting another foob fill. This is the second session of foobs meet giant needle with syringe filled with saline. I am liking this weekly inconvenience to a "got to pay to play" scenario. If I want a reconstructed chest area, that might be the way give me the best looking "girls" at the nursing home in about 40 years, I've got to pay in the form of a few needle sticks and skin stretching days.
I leave in 15 minutes. Wish me luck. Then I can read comments in a valium or percoset haze later today.
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