On getting this off of my chest…

***Note: This is a rant post. A long and wordy rant post. Please feel free to skip if you’re not interested.  ***

I’m struggling with two women in my life right now, both coworkers who I would deem friends if they weren’t so fucking crazy.

The problem is, they’re both negative people. And they want sympathy from me. Which I usually have in spades, but right now I’m pregnant and slightly emotional and in constant pain and stressed out. To say I don’t give a shit about their problems would be an epic understatement.

 

Let’s tackle coworker A:

She’s got a good heart, but some serious past issues have left her in the present with major anger issues. ANY little thing that happens to her is magnified by 100%, and when she’s angry, she literally quakes. She’s a quaking pile of rage, y’all. I’ve often smiled and said “Good Morning!” and her response would be a tirade about so and so who didn’t do this, and didn’t do that!! She sees nothing wrong with it either! She’s not one to apologize, she’s always right of course.  We had a standoff one time, where she snapped at me for no reason (I think I was once again just saying hello) and I called her out on it. She insisted that she wasn’t snapping at me and if she were snapping I’d know it.

*Chuckles*

For the sake of being professional at work, I simply walked away from her and mentally wrote her off. I’ve never been one to need to make best friends at work, and wasn’t about to lose any sleep on not having to deal with her anymore. She realized her error quick and spent the next week being SUPER nice to me. Like, uncharacteristically nice to me (but never apologized).    I forgave her because it’s easier to deal with a friendly person at work than a non friendly, but I never forgot the situation and keep it surface level with her now.

A few weeks after I hurt my back, she hurt hers. The difference between how each of us handled the situation is astounding. I’m a firm believer at leaving your problems at the door when you come to work, and so I hobbled around with a friendly smile plastered on my face as I worked never mentioning my back (or the hobble), despite wanting to cry in the bathroom at the excruciating pain that was radiating throughout my lower body. Coworker A, on the other hand, would hobble by my desk and openly complain about her back. She knew I was having back trouble too, so maybe that’s why she thought I would understand and give a fuck.

But I didn’t. I’m sorry, but go find a healthy person to complain to please. Not the pregnant lady who’s operating on limited amounts of sleep from working a 60 hour week while in excruciating pain and unable to take anything but extra strength Tylenol.   All of my sympathy chips have been given out, did you miss the memo sweetie?

Her boss sits behind me, so she’s constantly at my desk waiting for him to free up so she can talk to him. Which means I’m often subjected to listening to a rant about whatever it is that’s pissing her off at the moment. Doesn’t matter if I’m having a bad day, or if I’m tired, or depressed, or feeling weepy for no reason. I’m there, she has a rant, therefore I have to listen.

Coworker B is completely different. She’s clingy, a needy person by nature. Her husband (who is unbelievably creepy for too many reasons to list in this post) works in the same department as us. She’s on my left, Mr. Creepster is on my right. Fucking fantastic. Coworker B is another person I would consider a true friend if she wasn’t so warped. She’s almost 40 years old, hates her job and secretly wants kids even though Mr. Creepster has made it perfectly clear that he is happy being child free. FOR-EVAH. So she’s currently unhappy and unable to cope meaning she’s grasping at anyone who will give her attention to lean on.

You would think that since her HUSBAND works with her (like, literally across the aisle) she would lean 1000% on him. But not only is he creepy, he’s a bit selfish and insensitive (yeah, a real winner there).  And in her futile efforts not to look weak to him, she looks outside of her marriage for support.

*Sigh* Look, side note? If you say vows of  ’till death do us part’ to someone, and you can’t be open, raw and vulnerable with them for as long as you need to be….you’re doing marriage wrong. Just sayin. Makes me appreciate my husband that much more.

Anyway, Coworker B and I are vent buddies. When one of our bosses is up our ass, we vent. When something work related goes haywire, we vent. It’s fun, there’s coffee involved, etc. We often vent about home life too, sometimes, because that’s what women do. Men are idiots, tiny penises, you get the drift.

Her problem is that she’s become EVEN more clingy since I’ve started working overtime. That means I’m actually really fucking busy. I’m not at my desk, I’m hobbling around on my good leg trying to impress my boss and my boss’s boss. She walks by wherever I am with puppy dog eyes (seriously). She sends emails to me that she misses me and will be glad when the project is over. Not because she’s worried about my well being. But because when I’m back  she’ll have someone to vent to again. Someone who looks like they give a fuck.

I’d like to say”‘No, Coworker B, I don’t care that you’re tired…by the way….are you fucking kidding me? I’m almost 6 months pregnant, hobbling around on one leg, and working until midnight every night including weekends and you’re tired????. Also,  no I don’t care that you’re having a ‘stressful day’. I don’t care. Find someone else to sympathize with.”

When I told her I was going on bed rest, she actually looked horrified (but tried to cover it up). I knew what she was thinking. First the project, and now this? When will I get my friend back? Never mind the fact that I was GOING ON FUCKING BED REST FOR EXCRUCIATING PAIN THAT MEANT I COULDN’T WALK. You know, details. It irritated me that her first thought was about herself. Selfish people amaze me. Since I’ve been on bed rest, she’s emailed me multiple times, called me, texted me wanting to know if I could chat, etc. So far I’ve dodged most communication with her.

On top of all of that, she’s made it weird since I’ve gotten pregnant. She asks about the pregnancy and  her and her creeper husband comment all the time on my lack of weight gain (and the fact that I’m barely showing). When I first found out I was pregnant she started telling me she was suddenly having nightmares about having children.

I’ll let that soak in.

Nightmares. About having children.

“Gosh! I had another nightmare!” she would chirp as I swayed by the coffee machine clutching the only small cup of coffee I could have that day, trying to keep my breakfast down. She would tell me she dreamed she had a baby and it was too overwhelming for her, horrible for her, stressful for her. Her stories would end with, “Ugh! I don’t think I could ever have kids! Can you imagine?”

Um. Ok. Thanks for sharing?

Recently, she offered to buy me a coffee and I accepted.  As we waited, she gave a dramatic sigh, turned to me and said, “I’m so tired! Ugh! Can you imagine if I was pregnant?” She didn’t follow that up with “I don’t know how you do it.” or “You deserve a cookie.” Nope.  And she was dead serious.

 ************

I’m actually dreading going back to work because of these two. They are emotionally draining…and I’m not good with dealing with emotions. I’m a grin and bear it type of gal. Cry in the shower or in the car on your way home. Keep that shit to yourself, you know? The fact that I can’t get away from them bothers me. It means I have to constantly overcompensate my being positive at work to offset their negativity. And I’m not sure how much more I can take before I stop them mid sentence and say, “You know what? I don’t care. Fuck off.”

Ok, I’m done now.

\endrant

Bed Rest!

God help me.

I’ve disappeared these last few months because I’ve been tits deep in a very important and time consuming project at work. Since it started when I hit my second trimester and my energy was revving up again, I dove head first and began working long hours 6 to 7 days a week. Great for the paycheck and experience points, bad for my lower back apparently. I kept ignoring a nagging shooting pain in my leg, until one morning I woke up and couldn’t lift myself out of bed. Literally. I was flat on my back, and couldn’t move. Panic set in and I had Husband come and pull me out.  It felt like my pelvis wanted to snap in two, but couldn’t. The pain was so bad I called my doctor’s office, and the on call OBGYN gave me permission to take a muscle relaxer. The next day was bad, but not as worse and the day after that I was fine.  When I visited my doctor’s office again, she chalked it up to being very dehydrated and sent me on my way.

But after a few more weeks of lonnnnnng hours at work, the pain started creeping up again. My left leg would threaten to go out as I walked, and some days the pain would be so bad I wouldn’t be able to get out of a chair or roll out of bed.  The other day, at my 21 week appointment, my doctor got to witness first hand my misery as I couldn’t get off of the ultrasound table. :( She immediately prescribed me for two weeks bed rest, physical therapy, and an MRI to figure out what the hell is going on.

Drat.

Fortunately, my work project was almost done. I told my boss (he didn’t look too happy, but whatever, I’ve got HR on my side), finished up my portion of the project (so worked until midnight AGAIN) and then hobbled home and collapsed into bed. I’ve been in bed for the last two days now, only leaving to pee and get something to eat and I feel so much better. I realize that I pushed myself waaaaaay too hard and was paying the price. The pain being gone is great, but the fact that I’ve been able to sleep for two days straight is downright glorious.

So here I am, in bed and about to send Husband off to get me chocolate chip cookies and grapes (weird preggo craving). I keep thinking to myself that this whole bed rest thing is going to get old, but honestly I’ve been going non-stop since March and I’m mentally and physically tired. I suppose my doctor knew what she was doing!

On the baby front, we’re having a girl and she’s doing fabulous in the ole uterus. Having a grand ole time kicking the living shit out of me and flipping about. It was really fun to see her on the last ultrasound, she’s gotten so big! Everyone keeps asking what we’re going to name her, but I’m thinking we’re going to be THOSE parents…you know, the ones that wait until AFTER the baby is born to pick a name. Maybe I’m weird, but I can’t imagine naming someone I’ve never met before. It feels wrong to me. Also, I’m lazy as fuck.

I still really don’t have a bump and I think I look like most women looked when they were 13-16 weeks pregnant, not 21 going on 22. I’ve got that pudge thing going on (even though I haven’t gained too much weight, right on target!).  It just looks like I’ve been drinking beer a lot. I’m actually ok with this, because I’ve been told a big belly gets in the way of doing stuff, and I have (as usual) a laundry list of things to get done before baby girl arrives. As long as she’s growing fine, I’m cool with not ‘showing’ as much. :D

Ok, I’m starving (again) and Husband hasn’t moved to get the cookies so I think some motivation is needed.

Till next time!

Some Randomness For This Friday

One of the execs in my office has decided he needs his own theme song. He’s downloaded an app on his iPhone and every time he enters or exits his office, or picks up his phone, he plays said music. I told him yesterday that I might just kill him. I may or may not have been dead serious.

 

Thoughts on being a indie writer:

I’ve talked about how being an indie author is basically running your own business. Now that I’ve come back to the land of the living (also known as entering the second trimester of pregnancy), I’m trying to get a jump back on writing (5,000 words into book 3, ah-thank-you), recreating my author website, and slowwwwwly easing back into social media (God help me, I hate Twitter). But I also have real life to contend with…you know, the husband, the dog and cats, the friends, and my day job which has me working on another huge and expensive project as project manager (great for the experience, bad for the stress). I constantly find that I’m asking myself what’s the priority before I do something, whereas before it was all high priority and I would feel intense, debilitating guilt if EVERYTHING wasn’t completed within a certain time frame. Which is crazy. And a wee bit neurotic. So this is a great development for me because in six months, when my life changes again and I’ll have a little person to work around, I’ll need to become even more efficient in prioritizing.

I’m also thinking about letting my book blog go defunct. I love to read and it’s great to help out indie authors with reviews, but the truth is my first focus should be writing and reading for research on my own projects, not writing reviews on deadline and adding to my stress. I didn’t want to admit to myself how much work actually goes into book blogging…it’s basically a full time job! I really hate to let a pet project go, but I need to be realistic in how much I’m capable of. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not superhuman and at some point and time I must sleep.

Thoughts on being pregnant:

For the last few weeks I’ve been discouraged because my OBGYN kind of sucks and the 11 week appointment we had included a very unfriendly tech and a five minute ultrasound, where we had no idea what she was looking for and we didn’t get any pictures at all.  It was becoming hard for me to feel connected to this pregnancy at all and the baby was starting to feel like some type of annoying growth rather than a human being.  Fortunately, we went in for a 13 week checkup and the tech on duty was super nice and spent a lot of time with us waking up the baby, getting tons of pictures and guessing the sex. I left that appointment feeling like a million bucks and more importantly, finally feeling connected to the little being that keeps causing me to pee at four in the morning.

 

All in all, I’m glad that my life is slowly coming back together for the time being. I’m taking it day by day which is a totally new concept for me and am trying to enjoy life right now before the baby gets here.

 

Happy Friday!  

Dealing With Change

So I’ve been waffling for the past six weeks over something that keeps bothering me:

What happens to my career after I give birth? I mean, I’ve published a book, wrote outlines for the next 5 books, created a business plan (that did NOT include having a baby), had a burgeoning book blog and was well on my way to the busiest year writing wise I’ve had in a long time.

Then I became pregnant. And the worrying plus constant nausea and fatigue put me on my ass. I haven’t written a book blog post in two months; my writer’s website’s domain has lapsed, my email has exploded (I think the number was around 800 the last time I dared to peek), and I keep revising my publishing schedule.

Hmmm.

I tend to think long term rather than short term (i.e. How will this benefit me in five years?) so trying to just work until the birth is hard for me to wrap my mind around. And it makes it seem like once the kid is born, bye bye career. I found this article and it made me feel loads better. I think I’m going to look at this as another challenge for writing. Just like when I wrote in college with two jobs and a overloaded class schedule, just like when I wrote post college with a full time job and a part time job (why do I keep such a full schedule??).

This current schedule of mine will change, but I don’t think writing will be going anywhere for me. I just need to roll with the punches from here on out (which seems to be the motto for parenthood, too. :) ) Now! Back to wrangling that email…

The Part Where I Gestate

So….yeah. We’re pregnant. 5 weeks and some change to be exact. Let me tell you, it’s been a whirlwind from the moment we found out!

The whole month of April has brought lots of changes. I got roped in for a major project at work and was recognized by one of the big wigs in front of everyone. That prompted my boss to give me a small (but very nice) bonus. The project took all of my free time and I worked lunches, evenings and weekends. My back was killing me (stupid pinched nerve) and I was very stressed out, so I had been smoking tons of grass to help me a) sleep and b) relax my muscles (it’s legal here).

I was also craving eel sushi (which is my favorite!) so I made the husband eat that for about two days straight. Oh, and coffee and a McD’s breakfast sandwich was my best friend EVERDAY. Needless to say I gained 4 lbs, but I figured I’d just go Paleo again to lose it. No big.

One of these will be popping out of the ole vajay-jay soon.... (source)

One of these will be popping out of the ole vajay-jay soon…. (source)

On the 18th, my period was about 6 days late and I was starting to get depressed. I really thought they were starting to regulate since I was taking the Metformin and had been trying to keep carbs down (despite my three week, stress induced unhealthy lifestyle). What the hell?

That night, I got angry when I spotted one last pregnancy test hiding in my bathroom cabinet.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, tearing open the wrapper, “I’m going to pee on this and then never buy any more again. It’s not like I’m going to get pregnant any time soon.” And so I did (whilst smoking a bowl) and didn’t even bother looking at the results. I washed my hands and went on my merry way.

The next morning, I stumbled into the bathroom and as I brushed my teeth, casually glanced over to the forgotten test. A faint second line was showing. Holy shit, I thought as I ran to tell the Husband. He suggested I take another test and I declined. It was an evaporation line, why spend money on another one? But after I told my friend, she decided that I really should take one and so that night, I peed again and got another positive.

I went to the doctor the next day and they confirmed that I was indeed knocked up. Over the next 7 days, I had two scares: one that landed me in the ER for 7 hours and the other that had my husband so frustrated he went off on my doctor. All in all though, everything turned out fine.

The doctor ended up changing my due date (which was originally supposed to be 12/13, but is now 12/27) which puts me at 5 weeks and 5 days as of writing this.

We’re both really excited, nervous, scared and thrilled all at the same time. I just want the baby to be here so I can keep an eye on it!!

In the meanwhile, my book blog and writing have taken a hit. I haven’t done anything writing wise since March. I’m hoping to get back on track now that we’ve got things sorted out (for now, anyway) so that I can at least get one book written before the baby arrives.

Ok, you guys are now brought up to speed!

On having a side hustle

You know what’s weird? Having a side hustle.

For about two years, I researched having a way to make money by doing what I love–writing.

I created two business plans before I realized I didn’t need another plan, I needed to just fucking do it!

So, I did and published my first novelette on Amazon. I started a book blog and am making friends with other indie authors and publishers. I’m currently learning how to navigate the murky waters of Smashwords. I learned the basics of Facebook ads, Google ad words, and HTML. Wix.com became my friend. This year’s plan is: write, edit, release, market and repeat.

And so on.

Just now, out of sheer habit I typed “being your own boss” into my favorite search engine. As I read the results, I realized that I’m already my own fucking boss! I paused. When did that happen?! At some point, I became responsible for taxes, production schedules, creating spreadsheets to figure out how much income vs spending was happening in a year, understanding the business of self-publishing and marketing.

I have a schedule and if I don’t stick to it, money won’t come in.

I’m responsible for EVERYTHING, from start to finish.

I sat in awe and then another realization crept up on me: I love it.

Everything about it.

The stress, the uncertainty, the endless drive to do better.

It gets me off, man.

And having a full time day job working for someone else helps me be a better boss. I work directly under the head honcho, so I get to see how things are run from a bird’s eye view. I also get to see how he handles things and how NOT to handle things.

I’m extremely grateful for my job.

Having a full time writing job while continuing to build a writing career from the ground up means I can learn during the day, write during my spare time and continue to live in an expensive but totally awesome city and drive a nice car. It means I can take my time and learn what to do and what not to do.

So I get to be the boss without the epic stress of keeping my lights on.

Sounds like a win win to me!

One of these days I’m going to write a post (or start a sister blog) to help other inspiring authors out there understand that their writing as a side hustle doesn’t happen over night. It takes time (I’ve been at it since 2011) and if you’re anything like me, it’ll just creep up on you before you realize what it really is–a business!

Do you have a hustle? 

Random Thoughts

1) Girl Scout cookies are evil. You can’t just eat one. Or one row. You have to eat the WHOLE box in one sitting. Like I’m doing right now.

2) This made me super happy today:

3) This conversation happened today: 

Me cutting up strawberries in the office kitchen. My favorite executive walks in and asks for one. I stop him by holding up my knife.

“Oh, so you’re going to be nice to me now?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Was I mean to you before?” He asks, his eyes wide.

“Uh-huh.” Before I can properly complain, he swoops me up in a tight hug.

“Well, I’m all better now, thanks to you,” he murmurs into my hair. I pat him on the back awkwardly and try to pull away.

“Er…well, it’s ok. You were just, you know, being an ass.”

He grabs me again in an even tighter hug (if that’s possible).

“I’m sorry. I was having a bad day. I’m better now.”

I detangle myself from him and give him a strawberry.

***

Later on, I walk into his office where he and his assistant are chatting.

“Doesn’t she look pretty today?” he assistant gushes about me. “That color she’s wearing looks really good on her!”

“Dude, let me tell you,” the executive says, “I gave her a hug today–”

“Was it all titties?” the assistant interrupts him.

“It was all titties,” he confirms. “But, man! That hug had just what I need.”

I nod in agreement and leave, my good deed apparently done for the day. Once again, my breasts have righted some wrongs in the world. As a reward, I eat another Thin Mint cookie.

 

Paleo Update: Last Days

Okay, so 57 days ago I signed up on the whim for the Whole Life Challenge at the urging of my co-workers. I hemmed and hawed and totally didn’t want to do it. Paleo was for nutcases who liked to talk about cavemen, right? And had an unhealthy obsession with coconut, isn’t that correct?

Yes, and no.

57 days later, I’ve lost a little over 8 lbs (it’s hard to tell this week if I’ve lost another 2 lbs because I’m bloated…thanks Mother Nature!). I can fit in my clothes better and one pair of pants that I couldn’t fit over my hips now fit me well.

Every few weeks, I would wake up earlier until now I’m up at 6:30 a.m. (I’m a night owl, so for me this is HUGE. I’m talking epic.).

That’s all good, said and done, but here’s the real exciting stuff:

1) Last month I got my first period since August 2013. Husband and I didn’t know what to do with ourselves we were so excited.

2) I used to suffer from aches and pains thanks to joint inflammation. Not so much now. As a matter of fact, one weekend I ‘cheated’ and ate a bunch of dairy (and a short stack of double blueberry pancakes at I-Hop). The following Monday I felt like I had the flu, my joints ached that bad. A week of continued clean eating and I was right as rain again. So Paleo has taught me that there is such a thing as inflammatory foods.

3) I’ve learned that it’s not hard to eat healthy and stay under your calorie limit. As a matter of fact, I’ve stopped calorie counting because as long as I was eating fruits, vegetables, nuts and lean protein, I was always hitting 1200-1500 calories a day.

4) My workouts have gotten easier. And I tried jogging again, no shin pain! Awesomesauce.

5) I have an arsenal of Crockpot recipes to refer to now for easy cooking at night. But even if I don’t cook, I know what I can eat at the grocery store and at restaurants. My personal motto is ‘No Bread, No Booze, No Sugar.’ Of course, Paleo is much more than that, but it’s an easy mantra for me to chant when my husband decides he wants to eat McDonald’s at 9:00 at night.

6) Planning is half of the puzzle for good eating habits. The other half is knowing what to eat when you find yourself short on time or out on the road with oops, no snacks (as I often end up).

7) Organic fruit tastes a lot better than regular fruit.

All in all, I loved the Whole Life Challenge. I’m kind of competitive, so it was fun to have my co-workers around me compete to see who would get the highest score. And out of all of the ‘seasoned vets’ that started with me, I’m the only one left standing. Wooo-hoo!

I’d like to continue eating Paleo because I feel so good. I’d also like to continue learning about nutrition. But more importantly, I want to learn some new recipes! Who knew cooking via Crockpot was so much fun??

I encourage all of my readers to check it out and see if you’d like to try it yourself. It’s worth it! 

Married Chores, Chores, Chores

Yeah...this ain't me... Source

Yeah…this ain’t me…
Source

Like a lot of women, I do most of the housework in our small, 1 bedroom apartment. (I use to also pay the bills, but that’s another post.) My husband? Is a complete and utter slob. When I met him in college I would come to his dorm room and be horrified because you could barely see the floor. I would teeter-totter over pizza boxes to get to his bed or leap over piles of clothes to get to the bathroom.

I, on the other hand, can be slightly OCD about cleaning. I like a clean, fresh smelling space 24/7. And since we live under the same roof with two cats and a rambunctious boxer puppy, keeping that clean and fresh smelling thing happening ain’t easy.

My husband doesn’t do laundry unless it’s absolutely necessary. Generally that means either the President is stopping by or he can’t take another day of not wearing underwear (the husband, not the President). I, on the other hand, love having an empty laundry basket and fresh clothes. It makes me happy and it makes outfit planning a breeze in the morning for work.

So how do we coexist?

When I first moved in with him, I did all of the cleaning. This went on for about two years. Then, we moved to our first apartment in California. It was awful. There was the old, tile on the main level that never stayed clean, the kitchen was minuscule and we didn’t have enough counter space or cabinets for our things (making it impossible to keep dust free), the bedroom didn’t have any storage either so things ended up strew across every surface known to man, etc. I never asked him to clean because quite frankly, I didn’t know how to keep the damn place spotless myself!

Then we moved to our current apartment. I love this place. There’s a good amount of storage, there’s carpet instead of hardwood or tile (so I can vacuum pet hair, not have to sweep all the time), and each area of the apartment is clearly defined (the last place was a loft…ugh…). We moved in, and I resumed all of the cleaning. But then I started my writing career as well. And had to commute one hour each way to work (he has a 10 minute drive in the city). So my only days off were spent cleaning round the clock and not getting any writing done.

Yeah. That didn’t last long.

I call the argument we had last year “The Great Laundry Debate of 2013″. There is only one washer and dryer for our entire apartment complex and it’s always in use. ALWAYS. So we would let the laundry pile up until there was nothing left to wear and then I would beg, plead and cry with husband to help me drag it down the stairs, into the car and then sit at the laundromat for three to four hours washing, drying, folding and avoiding disgusted stares from the foreigners who happened to be using the facilities.  There goes my Saturday! And the fights were inevitable because I was washing ALL of the dirty items in the house, his included and he was too lazy to help me.

One day, after a particular grueling session, I casually informed him that I would no longer be doing his laundry.

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“You heard me. From this day forth, I will wash my clothes, the linens and towels and the pet stuff. But you’re on your own.”

“Ok….”

“Is that all right with you?”

“Well, I don’t have a choice, do I?” he laughed nervously. I smiled.

“No, dear. You do not.”

Since then, my life has vastly improved. I would still do all of the cleaning, but only my laundry. We bought a small washing machine that hooks up to any type of sink and put wheels on it. And then we got a drying rack. So not only could I wash my clothes in the apartment, I could dry them too! Life was good.

But lately, I’ve been noticing that I have to continuously ask him to take out the trash. It’s literally his only chore in the house. He takes care of the dog and takes out the trash. And even that’s easy for him! It’ll get full, and then I’ll have to remove it, place it directly in front of the door and put a new trash bag in. And even then he’ll sometimes wait until I nag him to death to take it to the dumpster.

So this morning, as I thought about it, I made a new rule for myself and texted it to him.

“Honey, I have a new rule for myself: Starting today, any time there is a full trash in the kitchen and/or trash and dirty clothes in the living room, I will not grocery shop for the house, cook or clean the kitchen.”

I hit ‘send’ and waited.

He responded: “Sounds like a good rule. :)”

Ohhhhhhh, that fucker. It’s on. We’ll see how many fights about missing bills (“They’re under the trash on the coffee table dear…”), no clean cups (“I can’t clean the kitchen with a full trash, baby”) and cold soup dinners (“I don’t cook in a dirty kitchen, love of my life”) will it take before he breaks. Because the truth is this: I can survive a lot longer than he can.

Game on, Mr. PBL. Game on.

The Neighbors Probably Think We’re Nudists

Seriously. We spend about 80% of our time naked in the house. Sometimes the small kitchen window blinds are open, sometimes they’re closed. It doesn’t affect our decision making process. The cats have learned to retract their claws when they pounce on us just to be safe.

I’m sure the neighbors have seen more flesh than they would like to.

My husband likes to walk through with his junk swinging. I think it’s a male ego thing…who knows? But he doesn’t complain when I come prancing through ass-to-the-wind to grab a glass of water from the office so I keep my mouth shut.

funny-pictures-scared-cat-naked-guy

I remember my friend once asked a bunch of other friends and myself if we had a problem with nudity. Everyone except for me all clucked and said things like, “Just sit around naked? God, no!! Henry will NEVER see this ass with the lights on.”

I was the only one that was like, “Uh…butt ass nekkid? Hells yeah! Gotta let that shit air out!”

They were (and still are) mortified.

*Kayne shrug* Whatevs.

Look, the thing with being naked is confidence. My husband has seen and explored every aspect of me….the skinny 18 year old me, and the currently 60 lb overweight me. And I can say the same about him. So there are no secrets to how I look at any time of the day. What he sees is what he gets (and he likes it apparently).

I jiggle my booty when I walk and my boobs might kill a man if they swing too hard. But I know that he loves me and finds me sexy and that gives me the confidence to strut my stuff in the buff (say that three times fast, heh!).

So yes. We’re borderline nudists in the house.

What about you? Do you like to let it all hang out?