I was showering tonight and I decided that tonight was the night I was going to clean the shower curtain liner. A. is coming to visit on the 20th, and she is spending the night. I like to present my sleepover guests with clean surroundings here in “Sanctuary de Simon”. Also, never ask an OCD person why, just nod and go with whatever ridiculous thing they are talking about.
So, picture me naked in my shower. No, skip that. I don’t need to give you a reason to go running for the brain bleach, or committing the sin of lusting in your mind. *insert laughter*
I am in the shower, and I have washed to an amazing level of squeaky clean. I notice as I am screwing around with my hand-held shower head, that my shower liner had soap build up on the bottom portion of it. What does an OCD person do? Clean it right then and there of course!
The shower head comes in handy for a multitude of sins, *cough*, I mean, things, and cleaning is one of them. I am bending over, spraying water and making quite a soapy mess on the tub floor. Vigorously I rub to get the built up soap off. So vigorous in fact, that I lose my balance, and go crashing under the curtain and ½ out of the bathtub. My head and breasts are on the mat outside the tub, while my legs are askew in the air above the tub.
I laid there for a few minutes, listening for the sounds of my faithful companion coming to check on me. Minutes passed and I dare say, there never was the jingle jangle of Sophie’s collar at all. Now, Sophie is a black Labrador, and there is no doubt that she feels oppressed here in her apartment all day while I work to keep her happy. Is she punishing me for her oppression? Was this the time that I was going to have the question answered I have asked many times before, “Would Sophie start eating me if I died and nobody knew?”
It didn’t help that I, we, had watched “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” less than an hour before. I felt like Blanche and Sophie was all too well playing the part of Baby Jane Hudson.
Not content to just go on and get my ass up, I milked it a little longer to see if Sophie would investigate. As I lay there, I loudly proclaimed, “White Lives Matter.” Nothing. She didn’t budge. I am over this situation, so I get up, get back in the shower to wash off, and finished up my nightly rituals.
I headed into the bedroom and there lay sleeping beauty, hogging up the entire right side of the queen bed. I swear she smirked a little as she opened one eye to watch me walk towards her.
I learned a few things tonight-
- Sophie would suck ass as a service dog.
- The bathtub mat should be in use during cleaning shower sessions of any kind.
- Laying on a hard floor boobs down is not very comfortable.
- It’s amazing how much water a rouge hand-held shower head can spray onto a bathroom floor.
- Black Labs Matter and should be spoiled rotten regardless if the question of, “Will Sophie eat me if I die?” goes unanswered.
I am off to take 2 Tylenol and perform our nightly “one minute-one act play”. It stars Sophie and myself. I crawl into bed, and extend my legs under the cover, into my usual area. (Sophie is laying atop the comforter directly on top of my designated area.) She pretends to be greatly put off by this, and with great aplomb, rolls over to her space, and lets out a loud, overly dramatic sigh. I then secure my sleeping position and the curtain drops.
Nightly. We perform this every night. Do I ever get tired of it? No, and just between you and me, I wouldn’t have it any other way.