Holy sh*t, have I ever been neglecting my bitz. I just logged on and a piece of tumbleweed rolled gently over my keyboard.
Also, I'm pretty sure my dear husband just disposed of his belly button lint by throwing it on my desk.
He watched Hatfields and McCoys not too long ago and now says we are feuding. He also keeps saying "I reckon". It's not annoying at all.
I'm not sure how belly button lint became part of the feuding tactics. I'm not sure I want to know.
I don't even know why we're feuding. It probably has something to do with the fact that I have been seriously neglecting my wifely duties.
Not those wifely duties. (Hi MB's Mom!) The wifely duties of laundry and having dinner on the table every night and other such household chores. Yes, I do hold myself to the standards of Mrs. June Cleaver. So does MB.
You're probably thinking that I'm some anal weirdo who has to have everything in it's place with a nice neat label. To that, I guffaw!
If you came to my house right now, you'd probably be more apt to call me a hoarder. There are no dead cats in my freezer (that I know of) and none of my yogurts have expired (that I know of).
However, there are several piles of laundry that may or may not be clean (I have completely lost track) in various locations throughout the house. One is next to our bed and within reach of the puppy. This means we occasionally have to chase him around to retrieve semi-clean pairs of underwear because hell if I know where the clean ones are.
If you aren't lucky enough to save the underwear from Atticus' jaws, you just may have to go commando.
MB keeps reminding me that it wouldn't be so overwhelming if I would just do a little bit of it each day. I pretend to listen as I try to wrangle my last unsweaty bra from the puppy of doom.
He has an appetite for destruction. Can't you see it in his eyes?
I know it wouldn't be so overwhelming if I did a little each day. I'm not mentally impaired. I didn't suffer a brain injury while chucking wet bath towels down the stairs into the family room/laundry chute. I'm just lazy. And it's hot. And there are spiders in the laundry room.
Most importantly, I just don't like doing laundry. I never have, but it's gotten worse since we got Atticus. Laundry becomes a challenge when you have to keep all of the clothing above Atticus level. Who needs the extra challenge?
Not this newlywed.
I guess the feuding will just continue. I'm going to go hide a honeysuckle soap in MB's man cave.
Take that, you belly button lint flicker!