Lessons from Lauraland

Another sleepless night and pain. Good news is that I have an endoscopy on the 12th and an appointment with the surgeon on the 17th. Here's hoping that we'll soon be saying bye bye to my gallbladder very soon! WBH and I were going over our new spending tool (might post about that later) and how much we haven't been spending on food the last few weeks. Then WBH reminded me, "but you haven't been eating, so that explains it." Thanks honey. lol So, after laying in bed for a few hours, listening to my snoring husband and dog, I am up, playing on pinterest. I was reading through the One Good Thing by Jillee blog archive, clicking on one link after another when I came across a post from another site about the power of vinegar and in the midst of that post was this poem... Song for a Fifth Child By Ruth Hulburt Hamilton Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth empty the dustpan, poison the moth, hang out the washing and butter the bread, sew on a butto...

I have been up all night with more pain than I can really do justice talking about so instead I am going to talk about something else. Socks. WBH and I have been together a long time, almost 13 years. Our second wedding anniversary is coming up in October, but even before that we knew each other very well and had a fairly good idea what would make us mad crazy about each other and crazy mad at each other. And for me, the later was socks. When he gets home, the first thing WBH does is change into comfier clothing. Then he either hits the bed or the loveseat for a few minutes of web browsing and relaxing from his day. During this time he usually ends up pulling off his socks and leaving them wherever they land. Let me be clear here: He changes clothes, putting the dirty things in the hamper and hanging up his pants if they are good to go for another day, but his socks just lay in piles by his side of the bed and by the loveseat in the living room. I cannot express how crazy this ...