Unwilling to adapt

Unrelenting pain

Unsupportive relationships

Unforgettable rawness

Unfiltered grief

Unequal feelings

Undeniable guilt

Uncontrollable sorrow

Unbelievable reality

Unable to swim anymore


Confessions of a Shitty Wife; T Minus 2 Days

Difficult as it is to admit, I forgot about our wedding anniversary last year. As much as that day was deeply etched into my heart, the fact that we had a baby almost 10 months to the day of getting married threw me off; I seriously thought I had an extra day. I’m sure he got me something nice, or at least a card that’s probably still buried under a pile of stuff somewhere in the Hoard upstairs. Maybe I got him a card, too; I can’t remember what I did yesterday morning let alone a year ago. All I know is that I can’t fuck this one up too; he’s a good man and I’m grateful that he loves me.

To be fair I’m not a completely shitty wife, it’s more of a part time thing. For example, I bought him his favorite beer for Easter and turned his 12 pack into an Easter Beer hunt around the house; watching him & the baby look for their respective items was adorable (although Mommy also purchased herself some beer, and had Daddy hide it as well).

For his birthday? Homemade card, complete with hand drawn pictures and a scavenger hunt for his presents.

It was badass, and I dropped a stupid amount for his gifts, which were a mix of fun (real life scavenger hunt, concert tickets) and practical (new sneakers, work shirts). I’ve been trying to cut down on general nagging and nitpicking as well, which I feel like should count for a lot too.

Last week when I realized that our third anniversary was quickly approaching (whoops), I had not planned to be out doing door knocking for a union campaign in a neighboring county the two days prior (double whoops), so I thought I had more time to work with. But it is what it is, that’s where I’m going after work, and I get stuff done under pressure.

According to Dr. Google, the third anniversary is the “leather anniversary”. It sounded gross until I read a bit more about it: “The 3rd wedding anniversary is often when a couple is aware of their durability of their relationship. That is why leather is the traditional gift for this celebration.” So what the hell do you get somebody that’s made out of leather? He already has a wallet, doesn’t wear jewelry, and honestly doesn’t need any more stuff. Despite some suggestions from my girlfriends, I am not getting him a whip. But a belt? It’s something useful and still symbolizes the strength of our relationship. Perfect!

Wish me luck!

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

It’s hard to focus with so much going on.  Our buddy bailed on us and we have no contractor to fix our old home, which may be falling apart faster than expected.  We’re only going to be able to do about half of the home repairs/updates we had planned on doing, but now for an extra $10,000-15,000 (ballpark).  Our financial situation is the same, just now scarier.  We’re nearing the end of month two of our budget experiment, and although we’ve made subtle changes that will hopefully result in some moderate savings eventually, overall we still suck and blow money on stupid shit.

My parents are coming home from their 3 month jaunt in Florida.  My father’s health is deteriorating and I continue to have unresolved guilt about our relationship over the years, especially when we blamed his medical issues on his drinking problem before his diagnosis.  I’m optimistic we can rebuild something, and he can develop a relationship with BB, before it’s too late, but I’m a realist too.

I rediscovered that media is one of my biggest inhibitors to being productive.  What is it about screen time that dilutes our desire to create, to be close to others?  I get on RB constantly about staying off his phone around BB during our time together, but after BB’s bedtime we’re both guilty of it.  Constantly.  Why are we not held to the same standard of protection as a toddler?  If I view technology as bad for my son, why is it okay that I allow it to dictate so much of my life?  I understand it’s a sign of the times but I dream of a future for BB where he’s not socially conditioned to mindlessly stare at a screen and have his imagination, creativity and interest in the world around him sucked out.

Despite my perpetual shortcomings I took a full day workshop on how to start my own business on Friday.  I feel scared, and already like my dream won’t be feasible, but I’ve been finding myself think of creative solutions instead of just becoming hopeless and brushing off my ideas like I usually do.

The future is still up for grabs.




For the Record

In my last post I disclosed the White Elephant that I am completely embarassed about: my office area, also known as “the Hoard”.  As excited as I was to really get it cleaned up and finally useable as an actual office (it’s been 7 years, at this point why rush?), I got distracted last weekend and began another project (the sad thing is there are just so many to choose from!).  

Before you judge, please know that I’m not totally disgusting.  Overall my house is functioning and liveable, albeit a little cluttered.  And dusty in some places.  But during the week by the time 7pm rolls around and the baby is in bed, any energy I have left is put into cleaning up our dinner mess, putting clean dishes/laundry away from the day (or two) before and/or not passing out on the couch (that happens more than I’d like to admit).  

I’m hoping I’m not the only one who sits down with the intention of resting for just 5 minutes and ends up snoring by the next commercial break of whatever is on the TV at that moment.

Weekends are the only time I have at home for an extended time and BB has never been a great napper.  But that wasn’t the case last weekend, and that’s where our story begins!  

I was downstairs in the basement throwing in my first load of laundry when it hit me.  No, not the smell coming from the litter box (although the cats had royally fucked it up).  

About two thirds of our record collection was located in the basement, collecting dust in stacks out of order for at least the last few years; a water issue had us scared enough to just get them off the floor and we’d vowed to deal with it later.  In order for me to even get to them to sift through I’d have to make it past the obstacle course:

I suddenly found myself thrown into a new quest: I was going to clean the basement!

The basement,like the office, has been the dumping ground when we’re just too lazy to put things where they go (I know, I know).  Before I knew what happened it had been over a year since I really looked at what should have been a very nice, livable area.  This is where we snuggled during the everlasting winter I was pregnant with BB.  This is where we put the ridiculously huge cat condo so the four of us could hang out.  This is where I dreamt that one day BB will play, so all of his shit gets out of our living room.  However this is what I found: 

Oh dear God, not again!! 

It took me two laundry cycles but I got (some of) the crap put away on the unfinished side of the business.  Trying to use what I have already around the house worked to my advantage in this one instance to help spread the clutter around.  

Treasure hunt near an end, I was finally able to make some headway!  Thank goodness BB decided to have an extra long nap that afternoon. 

Over the next week I got our records sorted into piles (keep, donate and sell), with ones I’m going to keep alphabetized.  They have to be merged with the rest of the collection upstairs though, and I feel like I will need to go through a second purge when the collection is finally consolidated.  We’ve only got so much room and I’m trying to focus on quality (and what we’re actually going to listen to) versus quality.

As of 2/27/17 final count was 296 to keep, 146 to sell, 55 to donate, although the numbers have changed since then. 

As of 2/28/17 I was down to this space to fit about another 180 ish records into.  Wish me luck!  

For now I’m exhausted just writing about this.  Tomorrow’s another day, and I can’t wait to see what project I’ll throw myself into.  

Cheers! 🍸

Journey To the Center of the Hoard

I’m not proud of it.  It’s a really dirty secret, hidden behind a door that doesn’t really close too well.  It’s embarrassing, it’s straight up ugly and has been this way for years: it’s our Office, also known as “the Hoard”.  

Everybody’s got (at least) that one drawer, right?  Well this disgusting mess is where dreams come to die after they’re sucked in by a black hole and spit out into randomly placed piles of garbage, wasting away until one of the cats eventually knock it over and I step on it a couple of years later.  It’s bad.  

I’ve taken several pictures of the Hoard over the last few months but have been too embarrassed to post them.  That is not changing, however I will offer a glimpse into the madness that is known as…. The closet.  

Behold, the belly of the beast:

Inspired by a strong desire to organize my gift wrapping items, a potential idea I’ve been tossing around for a side gig/small business venture and a newly discovered minimalist zeal, I began this project on 2/20/17.  Even the cats didn’t know what to make of it:

Yeah, it’s a straight up mess.  

There are so many amazing ideas on Pinterest for closet/craft/wrapping paper organizing, but I thought it would be more practical and a little more adventurous (albeit not nearly as effective or aesthetically pleasing, I know) to use items I already have laying around the Hoard.  

I fought as hard as I could for the first hour and a half but ended up needing the assistance of a hunky assistant, aka RB, to make it work. 

After a brief hiatus, I began work on it again the following weekend on 2/24/17.  Then stuff fell on me and I got annoyed.  

Again, the cats didn’t quite understand what was going on except they could make a bigger mess than I was, as is evident by the following pictures:

Shortly after this was taken, Max the cat was really stuck in the bag and thought it would be a great idea to run around downstairs as fast as he could to try to detach it from around his neck.  Crumpled pieces of tissue paper were scattered and left abandoned throughout the house, just like my dreams of doing anything creative or productive with my life. 

Although I have moved onto other areas of the house to (try to) declutter and haven’t done any work in the Hoard since, I’m proud of the organization that was started and the amount of crap I was able to throw out. 


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