Confessions. It is good for the soul

It is time to get some things off of my chest.  And thanks to two years of nursing, sadly it can't be my bra.

-I feel like if I see one more blog showing photos of someone's house looking like Pottery Barn took a dump all over it, I might explode.  Here is what two patches of my carpet look like, courtesy of the last renters.

I love being organized, thanks to growing up with borderline hoarders.  That being said, the bedroom in our basement is a shithole dumping zone.  My desk is a nightmare of crap shoved in every drawer, and most of my garage makes me want to kick a puppy.  Remember that episode of Friends when it was discovered Monica had the secret hoarding closet?  This is my hoarding kitchen drawer:

Who needs 4,812 neon green and orange chopsticks?  Me.  That's who.

-I desperately want a house cleaner, but it would likely be wasted money, since I know I'd clean the house before he/she came.

-When I'm sad, bored, or feeling like my life is out of control, I online shop.  I'm trying to be better, and I talked myself off of the ledge the other day from buying a lawn mower on Amazon, simply because my lawn is long right now, and I don't want to use my push mower because I feel lazy.  And we have a really small lawn.

-I would love to change my blog name, get my own domain, and produce an amazing fabulous site.  However, I'm so lazy right now, the name title would likely be titled "Yoga pants.  Phish Food.  Killing Seedlings.  And Ponies".  (trademarked)

-Those bears on the Charmin commercials creep me out.

-I wonder why I get so many pageviews, but so few comments.

-I feel like that paper bag on American Beauty - being tossed in so many directions.  And white.  And flat.  I go from wanting to quit my job and blog full-time, to thinking I should go to grad school because I see no room for advancement at my current company.

-I want wood floors, despite the fact that we could never afford it.  Troy, the man with asthma and who is allergic to everything, wants carpet.  Disgusting, nasty, dust mite love-shack carpet.  Jack got a plasma car for his birthday from his Auntie Anne.  I tried using it as a justification that we need wood floors.

-The weather here is amazing this week.  I saw a man driving a Miata with the top down, and rocking driving gloves.  M'kay.

-Every night, I kiss a sleeping, sweet, wonderful Jack, and promise that tomorrow I will be the momma he deserves.

No later than 6:15 am the next day, I've already told him he is driving me nuts.  Go me.

Ahhhh, confession is good for the soul.  That felt good.  Surely, you'd like to share a few things too?