Dear Diary: When is a lie not a lie?

I’m sitting here looking at a King sized mattress leaning on end against our couch in the living room. It’s scary. And big. We are redecorating our bedroom after 11 years of marriage and a husband/wife debate over him not wanting to change it and me wanting to. I won. My closing argument of our bedroom looking like a meth lab/drug dealing/slum, while crying pretty much closed the deal. I may have exaggerated a bit but sometimes you just have to use a little drama to explain your feelings.

Everything that was in the bedroom is now all over the house on various surfaces because the room is pretty much gutted while waiting on the carpet guys to get here. Which brings me to the point of telling you that I think we have way too many lamps.

Oh, and I need to tell you that I almost killed all of our chickens. 48 hours ago I filled their water jug and hung it back on the hook in the coop. Only I didn’t pull the cap off the water thingy that releases water into the water tray. So tonight, I went to feed and check on them. I noticed the cap and fixed it, and then sat there watching as all 30 of them gathered around drinking water for well over 10 minutes. I’m like…an accidental chicken abuser. All I could think was, “Oh my gosh what if all of them had died!?” Then I would have to tell David the truth instead of telling him I checked on the chickens and they are fine, which is exactly what I said when he asked me about the chickens tonight. I’m like…an accidental omission of truth chicken abuser.

Oh and thankfully David doesn’t read my blog, although other people do and they always tell him about it. Many times he will randomly say, “Oh, I heard about what you said about me on your blog!” And then I’m like…trying to remember which post he is referring to and when I wrote it because I honestly can’t remember. And then when I question him about it he can’t remember specifics either which leaves us nowhere. It’s a endless cycle.

So, I’m like an accidental omission of truth chicken abuser who writes stuff that no one remembers.

I think I’ll just go to bed now.

Good night.