My Husband Smells

It's true, he does! Just not in a bad way.

No one else can smell it. When I first met him, I smelled it. He showed me his room, and the entire place smelled. I thought it was cologne or air freshener.

His clothes smelled of it, as did his pillow. It took me a few months to realize it was him. Not air freshener, not laundry soap, but him. It comes from him, from his pores...I stand next to him and just breath in because it smells like nothing I've ever smelled before. I stand in front of his side of the closet and smell his clothes. This smell smells GOOD. I mean, GOOD. Like, I want to bottle it up and sit there like a junkie and just sniff it.

It doesn't smell like anything I can describe. There's not a scent I can compare it to. It's just a delicious yummy smell that smells so DAMN GOOD that it makes me want to rip my clothes off and maul him. I know it must be some pheremone thing or whatnot, because I am more sensitive to it when I'm ovulating. It affects me more then, but it smells good all the time.

I lay awake in the morning and burrow my face close to him and just ....ahhhhh....breathe in. I will stand close to him in the kitchen and just breathe in. I will take a nap and lay my face down in his pillow and just breathe in.

I've never smelled anyone else before like this. I've never reacted so strongly to SMELL BEFORE. Certainly not the smell of a person! Sometimes I think I must be off my rocker....and then I go smell some more. That's me over there, in the corner? I'm holding on to that t-shirt and sniffing it?

Ahhhhh........

More For Me

I am really enjoying Trailer Life. I didn't know how it would be, how I would become accustomed to living there...but I am having the time of my life. I should have listened to Husband and done it sooner. (Don't tell him that though, I would never hear the end of it)

Yes, it's small, but that makes it easier to clean. Yes, I don't have a dryer, but I found myself enjoying the laundry I was hanging to dry this morning. I was humming. It's great exercise, and I certainly seem thinner to my clothes, so something I am doing is working!

I like that Husband and I work together on tasks, be it cooking dinner (I'm just the helper) or building the deck (again, just a helper). We are both making an effort to actively work on our marriage and not just shut down when things get tough.

We are making an effort to save money, pay bills on time, and will eventually be able to pay some of the waaaaaaaay past-due child support he owes his other kids. His ex-wife would, rather than come to an agreement we can afford, get absolutely nothing at all, but that is a story for another time.

My children will be better off with this life, my marriage is better, my self is better. I don't feel the need to question if I should start my anti-depressants again because I know I am ok. That's all I need....to be okay.

Whew!

Moving done! Cleaning done! Saving the money I *don't* need to pay rent? Uh....not saving really. More like spending. I love to indulge myself and my children, and why not? It's been so long since we were able to do that.

Loving my "little house". I am not really a cleaning type of woman (Husband does most of that), but I might be able to get into it somehow since there's not much space to get dirty!

I should have done this a long time ago. In two years we will have the money saved to build a Real House. That is, if I don't spend it all on new shoes...

A Quick Moment

Okay, so moving is SHIT. I HATE moving. I have also figured out that I am completely fucking psychotic and never throw anything away. Those do not go hand-in-hand. They are completely seperate problems, one of which I can fix. Guess which one?

A Very Important Part of Me

Part of me is very stubborn. Okay, quite a bit of me in fact. That same part of me also happens to very resistant to a change of routine. Not, to say, the routine of a normal day where breakfast is at 8 and the floors are scrubbed every Saturday, sex is at 10:45 Thursday evenings and Friday night it's Potroast Night. Always.

That kind of routine is not my thing. No no no. My routines are paying the bills every month at the same time and not balancing my checkbook (this works out better than you'd think), always take time for Messy when he hands me a book, keep the same boxes of crap around whatever garage I happen to be renting for years because I can't get rid of it (change! oh no!), and moving on when I am all done in a situation.

My Very Important Part is screaming inside because I am about to let go of my life as I know it and embark on something new and different. I made a permanant decision that affects my life, my children's and my husband's lives. Wait that looks like i have more than one husband doesn't it? Only one, I'm not in Utah.

After discussing it for quite some time, my husband and I reached an agreement. It was really me who agreed, he has been on board forever. We agreed to purchase a fifth wheel trailer to live in, on some property I own. Yes, all of us. All five. Upon agreeing on that aspect of it, we proceeded to purchase said fifth wheel in a 2009 edition that has all sorts of bells and whistles and contraptions that we will have to learn together, Internet and myself. After we did that, we had fifth wheel delivered and now we are scrambling for boxes in which to store EVERYTHING FROM MY WHOLE LIFE BECAUSE YOU CAN'T FIT THAT MUCH LIFE IN A TRAILER! It only sleeps 8 (little people i think) so there is no room for anything else.

That is where we are right now. My Very Important Part is freaking, because I can't back out. I have trailer payments which happen to be 1/3 of my current rent, which sums up the main motivation of my move: money.

C'mere and I'll Tell You a Secret

That geeky looking guy on the Verizon network commericals? I totally have a crush on him.

The Cheese Stands Alone

Dear Internet,

I am in love with you, I am...but there's someone else right now. I am having an affair with Farm Town on Facebook. I know, I know what you are thinking, and you're wrong I tell you, wrong! I'll get bored of the mindless click-click of plowing and planting and harvesting. One day, I'll be back.

Love,
brokemom (who is really a broke mom with mounting pressure to shit-or-get-off-the-pot in a vicious circle of catch-22 fuckmylife situations while she ignores it by scwelching it with farmtown flava' and talking about herself in the third person)

P.S. FarmTown gives better head than you.