Here I am again, with my goofy recorder at my side sorting through the past week’s thoughts. I have a few that are worth sharing. Others- like how I think strawberry soy milk is amazing despite what my sister thinks- just aren’t (why would I even record myself saying that!?! I’m a little out of control with this recorder).

I had a slightly embarrassing moment about an hour ago. I had a free massage to use at my gym so I thought today would be a great day to use it- being that I’m off for the holiday.

Since this is my second massage I’m not freaking out about whether or not to keep my panties on like last time (btw, you can do whatever you want! Go figure), I’m a seasoned pro expecting no hiccups. I’m in the middle of my massage, totally relaxed and putty in the woman’s hands. She has me flip over, no big deal. It is then that I begin to realize the time and the fact that I hadn’t had lunch. I could feel my stomach just yearning to scream like a baby pig as she began on my legs.

She worked her way up to my stomach, pushing and massaging… and it starts. Now, I promise up and down it was my stomach growling out of hunger- but I think I’m the only one that believes that (seriously- it was I promise! If it wasn’t you know I’d tell you!). I make a comment that I must be hungry and that my stomach was growling to which the nice Filipino lady responds, “It’s okay ma’am, gas normal.”

So I’m in the middle of pure massage heaven and am accused of gassing up the joint. Do I correct her? Do I shut up and just enjoy the massage?? I opted just to let it go. I’m sure they are having a good laugh about me right now… it’s not the first and certainly not the last. I’m sure the massage therapists will be drawing straws to see who gets stuck with me next time!

Other than that “hiccup,” my weekend was nice- nice in that, “It was fine but I really don’t feel like disclosing every freaking detail so I will simply answer ‘nice’ to get you off my back” sort of way. The people I know in real life get “nice,” you, however, get more than nice. You get the Angular Hell Massacre story.

My sweet husband, bless his little Oklahoma-born heart, can sometimes drive me insane. As you may remember, the messy house situation has caused a few arguments in the last few weeks. We’ve finally agreed to get some help (she hasn’t started yet), but in the meantime I’m still the sweet Brittny you all know that occassionally morphs into psycho-green pea soup vomiting Brittny, very angry about the way the house appears. Will and I got in a little tiff about the apartment again this weekend.

“What can we do to make you feel better before the maid comes, Britter?” Will finally asked.

I sat there.

I hadn’t been asked that question in a long time, and once posed with it- I froze!

“What, you mean, you want to help me do something?” I asked, trying not to sound too surprised.

“Yes.”

So- here I am thinking we could finally put away the 3 loads of laundry that are piled on the chair, swiffer the floor… maybe dust a little- you know “normal” cleaning.

Will, however, doesn’t want to do “normal” cleaning. My sweet Will never just wants to do normal cleaning, it’s always,
“Let’s dust the crown molding!”
“Let’s vacuum the vents!”
“Let’s take down the hideous curtains and wash them!”
“Let’s ask 3 neighbors if we can clean their floor with our toothbrushes!”

This, ladies… this is the reason my husband hates cleaning and gets burned out. It’s never just light cleaning, it’s an overhaul- no wonder he hates cleaning, right!?

Well yesterday was no different. Yesterday it was, “Let’s rearrange the living room!” The designer in my husband came alive (I didn’t even know a designer was in there!), and he began moving, and adjusting, and sweating… the final result was a totally different living room- one I hated.

Everything was all angled, tilted, just a little “off.” I told him we were in angular hell. I was already in a bad mood about the house, but then I got even madder because not only did I now have a living room I hated, I STILL had a messy house that Will hadn’t helped me with since he was rearranging everything. I tried to be nice about everything, but I know he could tell I was upset. He asked me to give it a few days to see if it would grow on me. I agreed- already having my mind made up.

Guess what?

Sometime between seeing Will off this morning and getting accused of gassing the massage lady I actually started to like the living room! I really do! Am I crazy!? My manly sports loving husband came up with a very cozy and funtional living room- I honestly can’t believe it. I called him and told him I had warmed up to Angular Hell and that I appreciated his efforts. Oh- I also apologized for being a big grumpy about the concept. Now not only do I have a Ty Pennington on my hands, but a big-headed one at that! He’s all proud about his angular living room. How funny.

Speaking of my crazy husband- he has the craziest idea in the whole world. Seriously- the whole world. This goes way, way, WAYYY, beyond wanting a TV. I wasn’t a dream-killer then, but I have to be a dream killer now.

If the Colts go to the Super Bowl, Will wants us to go. There, I said it. I said it without having to yell into a pillow 3 times before continuing calm conversation. I said it without having to calmly get up and dart to the kitchen to slam every available cabinet as loudly as possible. Sigh, I said it.

The Colts have only been to the Super Bowl twice- ages and ages ago. If they were to go again it would huge for the team- I mean who knows how long this super star team will continue to play together. Anyway, I recognize how “big” a deal this is, but there are FAR too many reasons we can’t just run out and go to the super bowl- one being finances, the other being the fact that I just started a new job coming off a rather generous vacation. There are dozens of reasons NOT to go, but I think you nesties get my point loud and clear. A trip like this would cost us a small fortune, there’s no way I could ask for a week off of work when I’m still the newbie. We haven’t really talked any more about it. I told Will if he wants to go, I want him to go, but “it won’t be fun unless you go with me,” he says. Granted, I wouldn’t want to take a trip like that by myself either, but there is no way I can go. Not unless some rich heir with money coming out his sink faucet wanted to offer Will and I spectacular jobs and throw in the super bowl as a freaking signing bonus.

Sigh, wishful thinking, right!? ha ha

Let’s get back to reality and entirely off that topic.

I read the greatest article this weeked while getting my hair done. I go to a British salon that has (surprise, surprise) all British magazines to skim. I randomly grabbed one (because for some weird reason British stylists don’t talk to you- they style) to cut the awkward silence and buried myself in the pages.

I came across one article and so badly wanted to rip it out of the magazine and take it with me- but don’t worry, I didn’t. I know how you guys get annoyed by idiots like me who just “HAVE” to have that recipe for London Broil we will never ever in a million years make but are convinced we should take it “just incase.” Anyhow, I sat there, reading the article, thinking, “Oh my freaking goodness! This is so true!”

Most women are envy pre-emptive.

The columnist wrote about how so many women today feel they have to downplay their lives in fear that the truth might spark envy in others. She explained that we all know the saying, “Pride comes before the fall,” and by saying everything is dandy in our lives makes us look a little full of ourselves, and so out of fear of becoming like the odd, creepy fight-all-the-time Samsonite couple down the street with those scary yard statues in their lawn, we pretend our life is just ho-hum.

Our husbands are lazy and never help around the house,
our kids are doing “okay” in school,
oh yeah, we forgot to mention that promotion because we were busy leading that less than average lives of ours.

I found the article very interesting because I’ve seen that a lot in my life. I’ve watched women interact with each other, being sure to carefully phrase their sentences about how smoothly things are going as to not lead the other woman to become envious or allow for an opportunity for her to say one day, “Ha ha, she became just like the Samsonite family.”

“Women are strange, strange creatures,” Will always says, and you know what? I often agree. I could go on and on about envy pre-emption but you get the idea.

So that’s what I’ve been up to, not much but everything.

I also have to put in a plug for my awesome blog friend Annie! Her daughters are selling Girl Scout cookies- so if you don’t have a friendly little girl scout in your neighborhood (or even if you do!)- mosey on over to her blog and put in an order! I ordered 9 boxes. I wanted to order 12, but I thought that might look bad for just me and Will. I could justify and say we’re going to be sharing with people… but… no.

Hope you are doing well. I look forward to catching up with you guys.

<3 Have a good week!