Twice in one month.
Do you feel me, ladies?
I could just stop there and know you’d all be like, “Aw HAYLE NO. We’re starting a vacation fund for you.”
But I’m going to tap into my pain like a true artist and really explore my feelings through a variety of creative outlets…
But God said “Thou shalt not kill.”
I wish I were gay.
For real. Lesbians are smart. They can share clothes and hair products, and purchase their tampons by the cubic ton, and their bathrooms are much easier to clean. (Seriously, Ellen, call me.)
I’m actually not as heartless as I may seem.
In fact, just ask my husband! I am a picture of the perfect wife every time he is
on the verge of dying from excess mucus under the weather…
I guess instead of wishing he’d just shove a manpon* into his achy mangina, I should be thankful for the material, because all his hacking and moaning have inspired me to research and write about the origins of marriage vows In The Powder Room today—in the unique form of two medieval priests having a conversation over beers (which was surprisingly fun to write). Because if I don’t find the funny, I will be drawing sad little stick figures in a maximum security cell block with no hope for parole.
So, go. Read. And pray for my husband’s health and my sanity. We both thank you.
With Love and Lysol,
*Special thanks to my editorial consultant Angela who makes me laugh daily and teaches me words like manpon and mangina.
PS – I asked my husband if he would be okay with me making fun of his Man-Flu on my blog and he said it was fine, but that if he goes to the doctor and finds out he has The Bubonic Plague, I am going to have to issue a public apology. I’ll take that risk.