Hormones are funny things.
They live peacefully inside you all month long and then one morning you
wake up and you suddenly are completely convinced that it would be acceptable
to switch bedrooms with your 12 year old son simply because the shower head in
the master bathroom is kinda crappy.
Honestly, my mattress was the hardest part. I should really find a more practical place
to hide the bodies. I mean,
seriously. There was one point
throughout the 20 foot journey that I almost broke down and started crying
through the curse words and screaming, and I’m pretty sure that I started
speaking in tongues when I happened to glance up to see one of the kittens
perched on top, along for the ride.
Lucky I had Ryan there in all his 55lb glory, to cheer me
on.
In other news, I’m dangerously close to knocking on the
doors of the people that live around me and hoping that I don’t offend any of
them by asking if they had JUST ONE muscle relaxer that I could hold.
So I moved the massive bed all by myself. You hear that LEH2?!?! I’m not the helpless girly girl you wanted me
to be! I can move furniture! Two whole rooms of it! AND I can do it while
losing pints of blood every hour! You know what YOU can do?!?!? You can kiss my
ass. That’s what you can do.
No muscle relaxers yet, but I do have whiskey.
What Whiskey will not cure,
there is no cure for.
~Irish proverb
I'm thinking this should totally be my next tattoo.
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