We can't fix what is not broke.  If there is nothing wrong, there is nothing wrong....

Helping my husband write a book.  At least I'm attempting to.  I think I'm helping.  I wonder if he finds my comments helpful, or irritating.  Well, he hasn't kicked me out of the office yet.  He would if he wanted to.  I'm doing the typing.  That's the easy part.  Don't have to be creative to do that.

WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO!?

Take a step back and consider the availability and advancement of technology.  How available is it?  There are people in our culture who have laptops and cell phones but no jobs, report that they can't afford other life necessities (food, formula, meds) and have no intention in trying to find a job.  How advanced?  It is so advanced that people will not hesitate to call their device "crap" if it doesn't respond within seconds of pressing a button. 

That has become the norm.  I'm used to it. 

I am floored by...da da da daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa:
The bladeless fan.

Yes.  The fan with no blade.  The device that moves air...with it's mind?  There is no blade!!  I don't know who first created it, but my first encounter was with Dyson's bladeless fan.  Look it up.  Be awwwwed.  Yes, there is science behind how it works and it really isn't a hard concept to grasp, but it still amazes me.  The fan is redefined.  Who would think that bladed fans may one day face extinction?  Not me.  But they may.  The day is coming when children won't be yelled at to keep their fingers away from the fan blades.  That makes me sad a little bit and I'm not sure why. 

I wonder...

The question?  I wonder, if I have a little bit of depression going on.  

On my days off, when my husband is not home, I can't drag myself out of bed.  I would have slept all night, hit the snooze button all day, get up about an hour before he gets home and force myself to shower.  I'm exhausted when there is no reason to be.  I throw back on pajamas before he gets home.  I coulda/woulda/shoulda done a small load of laundry, thrown the dishes in the dishwasher, made a simple dinner before he got home, bought a few groceries, any ONEof these simple daily household chores would please him.  Heck, he's happy if I got up and played the xbox.  If I find out he's coming home late, I snooze even later.  I won't even get up if I'm hungry to get food.  I prefer sleep to food.  And, as he puts it, my "eyes leak" more frequently and easier.  I have "aches and pains" but nothing to the point that I will verbally complain about.  I think it is more like "I am doing nothing so I have nothing to distract me from normal daily life aches and pain."  I don't have them when I go to work...I'm too busy for the duration of the shift to have any aches.  Oh, and sometimes its a chore to socialize.  Once I'm socializing, I'm usually pretty good, it's just hard to get past that "planning and going" point.  You know, the "Hey, I'll meet you here!" followed by the get up, get ready, and actually go out and meet you.  Oh, and at times, I feel like I have Alzheimer's.

(Note to the reader:  I've always valued my sleep, loved pjs, hated housework, avoided socializing, and misplaced things.  I just feel like its getting worse and turning me into a worthless bum, going beyond 'valuing sleep' and 'loving pjs' to letting my life pass me.)

I don't have any thing to be upset or depressed about.  Got normal life stress.  I take that back, I probably have less then normal life stress.  I think the most stressful thing to me is that he works 60 hours a week.  That and I don't know what we want to do when we grow up.  Unfortunately, if you know me in real life, you know I can't stop whining about that, and by "that" I mean the 60 hours a week and what we want to do when we grow up. 

What do I have going for me?  I only work 36 hours a week, I have no kids to sacrifice my life to, financially we are comfortable, I have friends close by, we have goals we are achieving, our relationship with each other is strong, he doesn't make me feel like crap when I don't accomplish anything at home, I do have a (though stressful) fulfilling career.

I know that I don't have to be this way, and that's from experience.  When we were in Italy, I was up fairly early every day and didn't even nap.  I loved it there.  I felt more energetic.  That was surprising for me considering the fact that I have diagnosed myself with "the sleeping disease."  Yes, I made that up.  Anyway, anyone who knows me knows how much I like to nap.  I could almost find any excuse to take a 20 min (and by that I mean a 4 hour) nap.

The Summary:  My complaints are exhaustion, moodiness, forgetfulness, and lack of motivation. 

The Solution:  There are several measures that I believe would help alleviate these problems, if I would just do them.  Not a cure, a work in progress.
       Eat healthier: Need I say more?
       More sex: See response for "Eat healthier"
       Focus on what you can change, not what you can't: I don't want to.  See below.
       Get my husband a new job: Unfortunately, this is the most out of my control, yet the most concerning to me.  
       Start working out: Would ironically probably give me an energy boost, help with my mood, and even my memory.
       Pick up a hobby/take a class:I have no self-motivation, but I can pick up my game if I have to meet someone else's deadline.
       Start working day shift: I work nights which screws with your body.  Very likely it contributes to all of the above complaints.
       Improve my relationship with God:Its bad enough He's on the back-burner, its even worse that I'm never in the kitchen.  Maybe if I take the time to have a heart to heart with Him every now and then He could give me some pointers.

The Conclusion:  I suck at life.  For now.  But don't worry guys!  The first step is admitting that you have a problem, and I am so there.  Hi, my name is lilfay626, and I am a SLEEPAHOLIC! 
 <--Me, sleeping.

P.S. Spell check did not red underline sleepaholic. 

Wax on, Wax off

I am the girl who

• Can burp on command
• Prefers sweatpants and t-shirts
• Blogged about growing out my eyebrows (which I am still doing)
• Believes that farting is a body function that at times we should be proud of
• Believes that I am 6' 200lbs when in reality I'm 5'1" 100lbs...on a tall heavy day
• Did not understand why Ariel would give up the sea for Eric
• Brushes my hair in the parking lot after I get to work
• Loves Gears of War
• Will not wear pink, but I have worn "lightish red"
• Shaves my armpits every day
• Shaves my legs once the husband complains of them being as deadly as the COG Lancer
• Does all or nothing

Why did I tell you all of this?  Because...
I am not the girl who

• Gets a Brazilian

Guess what I did.  I dare you. 

If you said..."got a brazilian"...you were wrong.

I tried to get a brazilian.

Now, why in the world am I telling you this?  Well, a. I don't know you, except for C, who I know, but who also knows this and b. I felt the need to document this event. 

I tried to get a brazilian because he has asked semi-serious if one day he could shave me.  P.s.  I'm the girl who doesn't even "trim her trees."  That's wild untamed territory right there.  If any part of me would be all natural and free, why wouldn't it be my nether region?  And this, this sounds wrong on so many levels, but I look like I'm 14 years old.  I embrace looking young, but something has got to set me apart as a grown woman.  My woman hair!  I ain't afraid to have it.

I know, I know, TMI. 

Anyway, I love him, so I thought I'd surprise him.  I also thought there's no way anyone is going to take a razor down there.  It's all or nothing baby! 

My adventure took two days.  Two sessions.  Let it be known, I was not the one who called quits on day one.  The waxing lady did.  The waxing lady who, by the way, went to my college and was in my class.  Win.  No, not really.  But, I did not know her, and she did not know me, so it worked out.  Anyway, apparently I have crazier, courser, thicker hair than I thought.  I had trimmed prior to this appointment, but it was not enough.  We completed a bikini wax and she sent me home to trim a little.  Day two, I came back better trimmed and she was happy.  Unfortunately, the farther along the process went, the more stubborn my hair was and the less came off with each painful strip.  She had so much difficulty, she asked permission to bring in a second opinion.  What does it matter at this point?  Sure, bring in the cavalry!  Sadly, her second opinion was not working that day. 

So I got the brazillain wax, but I didn't loose all the hair.  I have also learned that stubble and crotches don't mix.  The stubble is worse than the wax! 

Do I regret it?  No.  My husband appreciated the gesture and even the end result.  He does know that the forest will be growing back though. 

Will I do it again?  No, but I may consider a bikini wax in the far future.