Queen Turd

I am a five star turd nerd. The true crap master. The wife that holds the septic septor. God save this Queen!

I am not one to make the bed. I never was. Well. I go through phases. Just like my menstrual, it comes once a month give or take three to four days. I must admit, I try my best. I'm the first to jump out of bed, therefore, the last one out is a rotten egg!

There's nothing like sinking in to a comfortable bed, so what is my mini gripe? Well, Shane's beginning to take on my lack of bed making habit. Shucks! My man makes up a bed like nobody's business! There's nothing like slipping into a bed at the end of the day that felt like a four seasons maid went fastidious crazy on. It's like a warm cup of chamomile wrapped in silk, I mean an eight hundred egyptian threadcount loses it's exquisiteness when it's crumpled at the foot of the bed.

Besides having a dreamy husband, I've just been spoiled with Shane's meticulous work. See Shane's a perfectionist, rich in detail and pride, when it comes to anything that he does. Certainly, it's not a trait that makes this marraige cohesive, but it's a rare commodity not to mention a pleasant amenity. Just imagine a world with no toilet paper. Well, I'll retract that, don't. What I'm trying to say is that, this wife refuses to lie in the bed that she made so unkempt.

Today's mantra: Make your bed you lazy b#tch!