Hi again.

I am a horrible person, I get it. I realize I am neglecting my blog in a horrible way 😦 Hopefully, everyone can forgive me and will still continue to read my blog.

In order to make up for my lack of activity I present to you one of Fiancé and I’s amusing conversations via text, during the day.

Back story: This conversation was had yesterday, when I did not have to substitute teach.

Me: In other news, I ripped part of my jeans on the inside thigh area. I knew it would happen soon enough, they are so worn down.

*Over an half later*

Me: Glad you care about my pants.

Fiance: I’m sorry for your loss. My prayers are with you in this difficult time. Ripping pants so near the holidays is always so sad.

I would tell you that I replied saying, “Lol you’re awesome. But it is sad! I loved these jeans, so comfy.” But, I feel like Fiancé’s comment is a nice way to end.

As a side note, I feel the need to defend how I ripped my jeans. They were super worn in, on the inside thigh, and I was sitting on the couch Indian style (I’m glad we are raised to call that sitting position something that is offensive) and stretched my leg out. And then rip.

I still went to the grocery store with a semi-hole in my jeans.

O Hello, Resentment

Guys, I am starting to have a major issue. I am starting to find that every time I realize something needs cleaned, or I go to clean something, I feel resentful toward Fiancé.

Lately I will just not do the dishes or will eventually ask him to do them, of which he will get around to doing. But, that isn’t as much of an issue anymore. It is other things that I finding myself getting really upset about.

Scrubbing the bathtub.
Dusting.
Sweeping.
Cleaning the toilet.
Washing the bedding.
Cleaning the sinks.
Washing the counters.
Cleaning the floors.
Him not painting the molding against the bookshelf (meaning I still haven’t unpacked numerous boxes because they all go on the bookshelf. It has been 4 months since I have been here).
Not helping me take empty boxes down to our basement space.

And what happens if we ever get in a fight? I bring this all up. It has even gotten to the point where he knows I will bring it up and/or that I am always upset/nagging him about it. I have even tried to talk to him about the fact that he doesn’t help around the house, but he always gets really defensive. Or, in the case of painting the molding, he always says he will do it tonight or next weekend, but never does. I have even asked, numerous times, for him to just tell me what I have to do (because it needs sealed first) and I will do it myself. Does he? No.

Why can’t he just clean? Why doesn’t he just help me out, and then I would be a lot nicer to him? Why do I even have to ask him?

It is getting to the point where I am about to go on strike. Cook your own food. Live in filth. And no sexy times of any nature until he does more than just empty and load the dishwasher.

Except I am fearful of doing “Live in filth” because I know it won’t bother him. Please help me. Any advice at all and I will be forever be indebted to you.

I’m Sorry

*Does the walk of shame*

Hi. I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s been awhile, how was your Thanksgiving? Hopefully well.

I promise I can explain. You know how I got sick? Well, it just wouldn’t go away. To the point where all I did everyday was lay on the couch, watch television or netflix, and not eat that much.

I know. I am as surprised as you are. In fact, I still have a mild cough. Ugh.

I also was at my sister’s house for Thanksgiving, three hours away. And frankly, the adorable 4 month old cuteness of my nephew will always beat out this blog.

No worries, though. When I returned home today I found out that Fiancé went pee in the toilet yesterday morning, before leaving, and didn’t flush it. So I came home to pee in the toilet. Yay.

This obviously means I’m not short on material.

It Wasn’t Me

Anyone remember this song?

Well, apparently, it is Fiancé’s new saying. As if it was 2001 and I didn’t hear it enough then.

WHY DID YOU EAT MY REESE’S CUP?!
It wasn’t me.

OMG! You got me sick!!
It wasn’t me.
O really, then who was it?
Jeremy*

What is so hard about flushing the toilet?
It wasn’t me.

Is it really so hard to put your glass in the sink, let alone the dishwasher?
It wasn’t me.

Perhaps I should just take it back a few more years and reply to him with, “Girls just wanna have fun!”

*Jeremy is our live-in ghost. A blog about him will come soon enough.

Karma Is a Bitch

So remember how I was super proud of myself for not being dead and managing to not get sick?

Just kidding.

I should have known my time was limited. Symptoms of a “heavy chest” showed up on Friday night and I was a little worried. Then the cough started on Saturday. By Sunday, it was a full on, “OMG noooo. I’m sick.” And then today, I woke up feeling AWFUL.

In fact, I hadn’t felt as bad as I did this morning in a long time.

Thankfully, I called into the school yesterday and told them I was not available to substitute teach today or tomorrow. I can only hope that my bronchitis, that I online self diagnosed, is somewhat better by Wednesday.

Until then, Fiancé suggested I watch a lot of Lifetime. That is an offer I cannot refuse.

No NaBloPoMo For You

Well, it’s official and it sure didn’t last long. 9 days, to be exact. I am officially stopping NaBloPoMo.

Yeah, I know, I sure can’t cut it. But, I do believe there are reasons behind me backing away from it. Although, I do plan on trying to post more often, I refuse to pressure myself to do it everyday.

You see, the main reason is that when I substitute teach I come home EXHAUSTED. I know, you really wouldn’t think that teaching all day would be a tiring job, but it is so mentally straining and can be rather physically straining too. So, the last thing I really want to do when I get home is write a blog post. It would be a lot easier if I was on a constant schedule, but I’m not. I often don’t know when I will work until late, the evening before.

Also, I almost feel like I am wasting good content by just throwing it out there everyday. Plus, I feel like my posts are not the best quality. Especially looking back at my past few, they are just so dramatic. Although I do have to own up to the fact that I am kind of a dramatic person.

But don’t tell Fiance.

My Body Hates Me

Why is it when you really need to go to sleep, your body is like, “No thank you, body. I’d rather hate my life tomorrow!” Silly body, why do you do these things to me? Why can’t you be more like Fiancé, who can fall asleep at the drop of a hat?

It started off with me getting a phone call at 9:17 p.m. to substitute teach tomorrow for a 6th grade social studies class. Of course I accepted; it’s money!! But, I also thought in my brain, “OMG yuck! I strongly dislike social studies and it is by far my least qualified subject area.”

And then my next thought came out, “How the Hell am I going to fall asleep tonight?” The previous night I had one generous glass of wine and was ready to pass out after that. So, of course, I figured, “O, I’ll just have another glass tonight and be able to pass out.”

WRONG.

Here I am, going to bed at 11:30 p.m., pleased that I am about to pass out and get a lot of sleep. Heck, I will even be able to wake up early and actually do my hair for once.

I lay in bed and checked my phone, 12:00 a.m.

Shit.

I continued to lie in bed and checked my phone again, 12:30 a.m.

Double shit.

At this point I texted the Fiancé and complained that I couldn’t fall asleep. He tells me to try some warm milk, I reply that I had brushed my teeth! He says sleepy time tea, I say no. He then told me to, “just try and close your eyes.”

Ha! That is easier than it seems. I attempted to then “meditate”, AKA simply focus on my breathing. I must have eventually fallen asleep, and I think I even had a conversation with Fiancé when he came in for bed. What I said, I have no clue.

I woke up in total fear. Turns out, I then had a dream that I woke up at 1 p.m. and didn’t show up for my subbing job. Which, if I actually did that, would mean I was fired. Dislike.

I checked my phone and then realized it was 3:30 a.m.

And then I woke up at 4:30 a.m.

My alarm finally awoke me at 5:30 a.m. so that I could go get ready.

And here we are, 10:13 a.m. during one of the planning periods and I am writing this to post later on. So far I am not going to pass out, but give me till about 1:30 p.m., when I will have taught the same thing twice already and about to go for a third go around.

And, $20 says that when I get home tonight I am going to pass the eff out, only wake up to cook dinner and eat, and then not be able to fall asleep again tonight.

Stupid naps. Stupid body.

I Think I Am Dying

…my poor unborn child.

As I type this I feel like I need to take some advice from Spidi, and that is the only time I will ever say that in my entire life.

I feel like I need to be quarantined, of which I first spelled like corinteaned, after what I have been exposed to.

I know I said that Fiancé is sick , but honestly, it’s getting worse. Today I found out that his sister and father both have bronchitis.

I REFUSE to let him, or myself, be next.

Except, I think it’s too late for him based on his coughing. And, to be honest, I’m surprised death hasn’t already knocked on my door. Maybe it’s that Flu shot that I got last week.

So, I sit here watching The Sing-Off and have half of my sweatshirt covering my nose and mouth. I will not be a victim.

I’m Having a Baby!

Sometimes I feel like I am the only person out there with my type of blog. It really doesn’t help that almost all of the blogs that I read are mommy blogs, so even if they do share something about their significant other, that I can relate too, I don’t fully fit in with them.

A blog that I read, Divine Secrets of a Domestic Diva is currently #3 on Top Mommy Blogs and I found a category there that I could sort of relate to, marriage. Only here comes that same issue, I am not a mommy!

I talked to gwen about wishing I could be listed on that website and she suggested I tell Fiancé that I want a baby so I can properly advertise my blog. I’m sure he would love that idea.

He would love that idea almost as much as my Catholic priest, of which I am calling this week so that Fiancé and I can get married in 7 months.

I Giggle When He Is Sick

So the Fiancé is sick, and I feel guilty saying this, but I often smile or giggle when I think about it. Why? O, I’ll tell you why. Fiancé is the type of person that always says, “I never get sick.”

I, unfortunately, am the type of person that gets sick at least once a year, and that’s not including my once a winter sinus infection.

When he gets sick of course I take care of him and will buy him medicine. But, by golly, my brain is constantly saying, “karma’s a bitch.”