Why is it that whenever Anthony's gone on a business trip I feel like I'm on fucking vacation? You should see the house: projects strewn everywhere, I haven't "cleaned" once, I'm sleeping like a drugged up rock star and waking up feeling like a 10 year-old on Christmas morning. It's fantastic.
The only thing I'm missing is my husband!
What. The. Fuck. How stupid is this??? What is it about the daily grind with another adult in the house that makes my life harder? And it's not Anthony - let me be clear. The man could live in, and be perfectly content, a dirt-floored yurt. It's me. I do it to myself. Maybe I should stop trying to take care of a grown man so much and let him take care of himself more. No more breakfasts and packed lunches. We'll only have dinners when I feel like it...
No, no, no... that feels so wrong, too!
Damn. I'm stumped. How do I fix this??
This is so intriguing...what is that lever in our heads that does that?
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