"We need to start having more awake sex"

... this is an actual quote by my husband earlier today during a conversation we were having in the car as we left Target.

Look, I've been kinda busy lately. I just have. I'm doing 4739824932 different things. And I've been very tired at night.

And in the morning.

My husband had just been dragged to two stores... where I spent about two and a half hours comparing buckets, household cleaners and microfiber cloths. I spent forever trying to find cleaning produccts that are without bleach, petroleum, amonia, strychnine, LSD, skin flakes, and things that are impossible to pronounce.

He did, however, get to leave with some Star Wars figurines (did I mention my husband is only eleven?) , some mini bottles of beer (totally dumb seeing as how he'll just drink 2 or 3 of them at a time instead of just one regular sized bottle, but... he thought they were "cute"<--- I'm assuming the fact that he called these beer bottles "cute" was directly related to my standing in the aisle for sixty... three... minutes.... comparing labels as he quietly withered away into a state of boredom and insanity-- he even began mumbling hypothetical conversations about himself to himself at some point). Anyway, back to the beer... he got beer.

So I'm starting my own business. I'll tell you more about it later... once I have a real grip on everything. But, clearly... I'm not meant to work for anyone. I'm too spoiled and prefer my freedom. However, I would like to help bring in some income around the house. Because I want pretty things. And the condition of our carpet is slowly sucking my will to live so it needs to go and we need to either tile our house or do some wood flooring. Whatever. At this point, I'd just assume rip up the carpet and just have the concret that lies underneath.

So I feel pretty tired right now. Mostly because of one store in particular. I probably shouldn't say which store, should I? They might try to come after me or I might offend someone. Let's just say that it rhymes with Ballfart. This store about killed me. Does anyone like going there? For real? They can't possibly. There is NO WAY anybody actually doesn't mind going to to this place. I go like maybe once a year. And each time, a piece of me dies. My dad called while I was there and I HAD to talk to him because we don't get to talk all that often. So that probably took an extra 30 minutes where I just stood and chatted. I can't talk on the phone and shop at the same time. After I was off the phone, I found my husband rummaging through a ginormo bin of Spanish DVDs. By the way, this particular store does not seem to have any non-toxic, eco friendly household cleaners. None. Zip. Nada. I had not realized that the people who regularly shop here... at this "Ballfart" store... are not ones to give a shit about the earth. I wish that had occured to me prior to making the decision to go there this morning. That would have saved me from the headache and from having to take my second shower for the day upon my return home. I'm passing on this news to you so that you are, at least, spared from having to go had you considered going for that reason.

Target, on the other hand, ....I could live there. Had my husband not been with me making bored faces, grabbing a quick feel of my boobs when nobody seemed to be looking, coming up behind me and poking my ass with the broom handle which was positioned appropriately at his crotch area, and showing me some type of beverage that had a horrible, horrible clown like face on the front and him saying "look Babee! A clown!", I might still be there.... happy.... and alone. .....with nobody poking my ass or tugging at my shirt. I swear, sometimes it's easier to have my own children with me instead of the husband. You know what I'm talkin' about.

Anyhoo, chances are... there will be no awake sex tonight. Besides, I already had butt love with the broom handle in the Target aisle.