And So…

This blog will no longer have reviews on it. I’m getting out of the whole reviewing business. It holds little spark for me. I don’t know what this blog will be filled with yet, but I’ll figure something out.
Why are you getting out of ‘the whole reviewing business’?
Simple. Sex doesn’t fascinate me anymore. I used to think about it a lot, but I feel that it was more due to the fact that sex was still new and unknown to me.
Maybe you should spice it up a bit, ya know, make it not so vanilla.
While that could be a possibility, I don’t see it happening. It’s not the sex I’m getting now that doesn’t interest me, it’s sex in general. My husband and I have sex once a week (Sunday or Monday), and I’m alright with that. I wasn’t at one time, but I’ve gotten over that. It’s one of those things that you know you just can’t change, and it ceases to bother you, and while a part of me is saddened by this realization, another sighs in resignation. There’s very little fight left in me for that sort of thing.
Another thing that no longer bothers me: when my husband doesn’t immediately jump up to assist in housework. Oh, I steam a bit, but then I realize that, ‘Hey, if I wanted help all I had to do is ask, and well I didn’t ask, therefore he won’t know that I want help.’
(my toes are cold)
Another thing: Unless by some miracle, I will never be a housewife. It used to be something I would strive for, taking care of my house and making it look nice for my husband when he returned home. However, for that year that I was a ‘housewife’ I wasn’t a very good one. He ended up doing all the work while I lounged about like a blob on a log. I know now that unless we win the lottery, it isn’t going to happen. Even if he made enough money to comfortably support us financially, he wouldn’t like the thought of me not working, and him being the sole provider. Ergo, it’s to housekeeping I go. I’m starting to bring my work home with me as well. Once I get done cleaning there, I come home and do it. No matter how much my feel are hurting, or my back or hip, I need to just take an Ibuprofen. Why should I ask my hard-working husband to clean up, if I’m not willing to do it myself?
That’s about all I have to say this morning. Oh, by the way, it’s my anniversary.

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