My Friday Confessions January 28

Guess it’s time to fess up for the week, eh?

I confess…I snore. Not all the time. And certainly not every day. But yeah, I snore. So does the Hubs on occasion, which makes for interesting sleeping quarters. Either he’s snoring, or I am, but not usually both of us at the same time (small miracles). I even wake myself up sometimes from my own snoring.

I don’t understand snoring. I also don’t understand why I feel so ashamed and embarrassed to be a snorer. It’s not like I can help it. Those freaking nose strips do NOT work. Believe me. I’ve tried. And I’m glad they don’t work anyway because they just add insult to injury having to wake up with an ugly adhesive strip hanging off your nose. You know the person who invented those did so just to see how many idiots would actually wear them. And he’s laughing all the way to the bank…but I bet even he snores!

Seriously, it’s F’d up that women should have to snore. Is it not enough that we have to endure labor, childbirth, monthly visits from “Aunt Flow,” PMS, stretch marks, menopause, pantyhose, curling iron burns, and that crusty makeup gunk that gets in the corner of our eyes?! Sheesh. How much is a gal supposed to take?

I wonder if Angelina Jolie snores. And if she does,  I wonder just how long it takes Brad Pitt to realize he could care less that she snores…because she’s so freaking hot. Hmmm.

I confess…I don’t dust my house very often. It’s one of two chores I absolutely  HATE to do, the other being mopping the floors. I hate moving everything. I hate how dirty my fingers feel when I doing it. I hate the smell of furniture polish. And I really hate that within 2 days of  getting rid of the old dust, there is new dust lined up to take its place.

So even though I do like my house picked up and neat most of the time (and I can be pretty darn anal about that, go figure), I don’t care if there’s a layer of dust on everything inside it. It’s not like it’s an inch thick or anything. I’m not THAT girl yet. But it’s a layer, to be sure. The way I figure it though, as long as no one runs their finger across the surface of anything, disturbing the evenly distributed layer, then it’s not that noticeable. And besides, in case there’s no pen handy, the dust creates an instant message board on almost any surface.

I confess…I weigh 125 pounds.

I confess…I lie about my weight. But a girl can dream, can’t she?