Don't ask me why... let me just say that the experience of having offered... well, stinks! :)

We're all moved in, still a bunch of unpacked boxes lying around. But it finally feels like home. And despite the apparent lack of interest men show in all things domestic, its just a big old sham! My husband loves the place, stares out all windows admiring the view, and missed the old place all of ONE minute! :)

Ok, I have a confession to make. I lost my temper rather viciously with him for a very small reason... and I feel very very bad for it. I may blame it on tiredness, and I was VERY tired too. But to be, well, honest, I think it was just a case of "Power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely." Yep, in a-Snowball-of-George-Orwell-fame-way.

It happened like this: As the day wore on, I found my better half (I'll give you that only this time mind) depending more and more on me for all the decision-making. I felt powerful, and in the absence of sugar (chocolate), power rushed to my head. Fueled by "The Find" - a plastic bag filled with garbage, neatly stashed in one of the boxes packed by the perpetrator (my husband, for clarification, in case the story so far has befuddled your brains) - my rage came as a complete surprise to the poor, unsuspecting humanoid from Mars!

Oh come on! I feel bad enough. I definitely am owed a lousy excuse to be a steam kettle for all that hard work I put in! Aren't I??