F is for Flexible

I know–you all think that I’m just easygoing and nothing every fazes me. It’s the vibe that I always give off. Not.

I can be flexible. As long as everything is exactly the way I want ...
From Gilmore Girls

I know that I have written before of my love and association with Lorelai Gilmore. The show is one of my favorites to rewatch when I’m working. I tend to rewatch shows that I know so that I can listen and still work. And when I forced, at first, Snake to watch them, he asked if I had received royalties for the retelling of my personality. After two episodes, he was hooked too.

So, back to the flexible. On Wednesday, I was reminded yet again of my total flexibility. Our old spiralizer had cracked and Snake had researched the replacement, bought it, washed it and showed me how to use it, along with figuring out how to store the different blades. Yes, he is awesome.

So, after he washes it, I say, “Leave it on the counter and I’ll figure out where to store it.” He tells me that he already found a place for it. It disappears from my brain until I am writing my grocery list a few hours later and checking in the pantry for what I needed. And trip over the cat toys on the floor that has always been open.

I can’t quite figure out how they managed to get there because they are usually on the third shelf and on the opposite side of the pantry. I pick them up to put them back and see the spiralizer in their spot. No. Rearranging my pantry? Not happening.

On the positive side, only the cats were privy to my mutterings and rantings as I spent 10 minutes moving things around so they were where I wanted them to be. Bobbie is smart. She decided waiting for her treat in the other room might be a good idea.

I told my bestie about it and she laughed, telling me it was her too and 100% married life. It’s nice to have people who understand your crazy. She’s the best–love you!

So, yeah…I can be flexible when everything is exactly the way I want. By the time he got home, I was over it and could tell him in a rational way–at least I think I did–that he couldn’t rearrange things without asking me. Yes, he is amazing and he did all that. But, for the sanity of our house, please leave my shit where I put it.

I guess it’s a good thing I’m the D in this D/s, huh? It seems completely rational to me that I want things the way that I want them, when I want them and where I want them and how I want them and anything else as I want it.

From Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life

Summer? Yes, I’m getting to it. Look at the picture on the right. Can’t you just see me as Lorelai with my hat and sunglasses and parasol being trailed by someone carrying my chair and other belongings?

I thought so.

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