Coming to a Trash Can Near You

I realize I just wrote a really nice thing about CPA, our marriage, etc. And its true... however, I am about to LOSE IT on his ass if he doesn't figure out how the trash can works. CPA usally goes to bed before me... why not, when you don't have to finish picking up from the end of the day, lay out school clothes (after you make sure there's something clean to wear), OH, and squeeze in some more monogramming. Because it lives in your home office 24/7. Staring at you, until its done.

I used to be all about taking care of my honey. But now... I'm sorry, I've got two additional humans to take care of, the house, a monogram business... oh, and what's all the racket going on? Yes, a renovation I'm trying to oversee. This house isn't picking out its own windows, doors, tile, fixtures, floors....... by itself.


So, I swear if I pick up one more wrapper (from the granola bar I saw you eat tonight), throw away one more EMPTY cereal box left open on the counter (which I know you ate and finished this morning) AND have to put away the crap you leave on my desk while you piddle around on MS Money I AM GOING TO LOSE MY SHIOT! I realize I am essentially a SAHM (a good SAHM would not complain about this, she'd be ALL that and a bag of chips, but I'm doing the best I can here), but last I checked your arms weren't broken and if you got out the box of Goldfish crackers to eat while sitting watching 57,000 games of MLB tonight... you probably know where to put that Goldfish cracker box back, right? And NO, its not on the table in the living room sitting next to the Waterford crystal picture frame... So, BACK IT ON UP and put it in the trash for me, k?

XOXOXO