My wife bought a knick-knack (sans paddy whack) at a charity rummage sale. It says, "Where love dwells, no house is too small." Bull-pucky I say.
Our other house is 4-5 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, 2200 square feet with a garage as well. Owe more than its worth (like 20% of America), should probably give it back to the bank. Especially since we aren't living there. Well, Barbara's wardrobe for the most part still lives there but that's a really expensive closet.
This house we rent for $525 a month, comes with mature pecan trees and likely less than 1,000 feet (including a poorly done enclosed porch addition), one bath, two bedrooms. I tried to get more bathroom time by getting a mirror for the oldest daughters room for make-up and hair, that helped a little.
Last night, I decided to do something about my legs. This is a several day process to wax them myself. I began and in 10 minutes, she was banging on the door. I vacated, and tried again in an hour, same result. Finally gave up realizing with no overtime the house is relatively kid free in the daytime, so I finished as much as I was going to today and shaved the rest.
Sad really how this seems to be a progressive condition, feminizing I mean. In the past (long past) slipping into a stolen swimsuit in the bathroom and a couple turns in the mirror sufficed. Now, I eye with disdain my hairy chest, next on the list.
I had shaved my head clean for the last 4 years or so, and am experimenting with growing what little is left. I added a beard as well, knowing my wife favors the look. She was a bit indifferent, (justifiably) pointing out that its sure to go if Barbara comes to visit.
I have been wearing jeans today so I have been able to avoid molesting my legs. My wife laughs a bit about how hard it is for me to avoid touching my legs when they are smooth. It's just that they don't feel like mine to me, but better.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment