I'm Going to Be FIne

Today has been a long day. I've been cleaning my house. Not just cleaning, I mean like deep cleaning. It was in complete disarray, so any kind of cleaning was welcomed by both my house, and my husband. My living room and bathroom are the cleanest they've been since I moved into this house. It's ridiculous. However, I have broken each and everyone of my Kim Kardashian glamorous finger nails. For some reason when I clean obsessively I slowly fall apart. My back aches, my feet suddenly feel freezing and go numbish, my skin gets dry, my lips immediately chap, and most concerning my nails get dry and break... yet, my husband doesn't feel this is a sign that I am to immediately stop cleaning and hire a cleaning service.

Our house is over run with animal hair. So much so that I almost considered naming this post Shaving the Kitty, which I immediately rethought... not really the type of reader I'm looking to get. Not on this blog anyway.
I won't pretend that Lucy is even one fifth of our animal hair problem, although her stripey hair is increasingly becoming an issue, it is mostly my big sheddy Hank. He makes no apologies about it, and the benefits of Hank's love far outweigh the fact that all black clothing Zack and I wear has to be kept in our cars, and we have to put it on in the driveway. Making wearing black pants uncomfortable for us, and our neighbors.
I have a dyson, and it rocks, and it still is a constant battle to tame the detached main of my zoo. It's really awful. But I try... yes I do.

Our dish washer is broken as well. It's one of those mobile ones that rolls around the floor when drunk people  lean on it. It was never really reliable for clean dishes, but for the first 18 months or so that I lived here, a couple cycles did the job. It has however, completely forsaken me. Bastard. Now it sits angrily in the corner of my kitchen, mocking me, unused and in my way. So I have been HAND WASHING dishes, for the first time in my life. So much for being the kept, trophy wife I thought I was. It dries out my hands and nails in a way that you can not imagine.
My nails are screaming, and they sound like a tiny Vietnamese woman named Susie who works at my nail place. They beg me to get acryllic nails and forget about how great my nails grow on their own when taken care of. But I can't. It's too danged expensive, and I just cant forget how awesome my nails look when they get to grow on their own. I'm not ready to give up on them.

My carpet is perpetually spotted. Our carpet is white, because my landlord is a sadist. I don't know what he was thinking when he filled this house full of white easily stainable carpet but it wasn't "Some day I'm going to rent this house out to a funny young woman, her muddy husband, her great big dog, and their occasional potty trained-challenged foster dogs. So, I think we will go with white carpet. Yep." No sir, it was not.

Bah. I hate cleaning. I'm the worst cleaner, but when I start, you better just leave me alone because I'm not stopping. Which is why demon kitty has been quarantined to her room most of the day, I was certain if I stepped on her tail one more time it was going to result in a pricey vet visit.

I haven't checked facebook, all day. I don't know what's on anyone's mind right now, and it is strangely freeing but extremely unfamiliar. I could think about nothing other than shiny sinks (Thank you Flylady), Windexed mirrors, and getting everything organized all the live long day.

Here's the thing, I think if I just stay this busy every day Zack is gone, I should be A OK. I have all sorts of things planned for the year from hell.
I'm going to workout every day, except for maybe Sunday. Just because nobody likes anyone who works out everyday and public approval is very important to me.
I'm going to go to weight watchers because I'm getting boudoir or pin up photos done as a Valentine's day present for my husband in 2012, (which I'm writing more about later) and I plan to be even cuter.
I'm going to work and make some money and since I'll be so busy, I hope to have no time to spend any of it and be super ready for baby beautiful eyes as soon as Zack gets back.
I'm going to play with all of the babies of the people around me lucky enough to get knocked up recently. That is going to be spectacular.
I'm going to start cutting coupons like it never went out of style. I don't care if I look like your Grandma in the grocery store. It's going to be sweet.
I'm also playing coed softball with two of my favorite people in the world, Chelsea and Sam. I'm really excited about that.
I'm going to volunteer my behind off for SOLAS, for Precious Memories, and for any other thing I can get into. Volunteering makes me SO happy. It's disturbing.
I'm going to blog and talk to you all a lot. Because I just love you so much.
Plus I'm going to be spending a lot of time shipping care packages to my husband and skypeing and talking to him as much as possible.

My point, dear kiddies, in this crazy long post is a three parter: 1: Everything in my house is falling apart, and is likely to get worse when my husband leaves. 2: I don't mind because it will keep me so busy trying to keep up with everything. and Finally, I'm going to be fine. Even though if I think about it for more than a minute I am likely to cry uncontrollably with no foreseeable end, but why in the world would I think about it for more than a minute?! Just like when he's gone, I'm going to take every day one minute at a time.


***Love you guys, thanks for reading. Recently I've been getting a lot of super positive feedback about TGIMolly and I'm so proud. I would say about 90% of my monthly readers are military wives, so if any one of you would like to write a guest blog post I would absolutely love that. Also, don't forget it's so easy to comment at the bottom of these posts and let me know what you think.***