Just an average day

I'm in the process of rearranging the boys' room. It's too crowded, and the barely used crib keeps getting in the way of Rooster's closet. TheHusband somehow decided that a stack of yaffa blocks behind the changing table means good storage. He obviously hasn't put much thought into it. I'd like to see the yaffa blocks used for toys only or disappear altogether.

I can breathe again! My allergies are acting up. I haven't had an attack this bad in years. TheHusband informed me that in order to save money, we'd be opening the windows on all bearable days (it's been in the 90s here--I hate indian summer). Just to show him, I agreed to do it one day. One. He came home to a wife with red, watery, itchy eyes, a stuffy nose, and a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder. Needless to say, after informing him exactly what was wrong with me, and pointing him in the direction of my favorite remedy, he went out tonight and with our last few dollars, got my favorite allergy homeopathic. It's by BHI, and it's simply called Allergy. I love being able to breathe through my nose and not spend 10 minutes at a time with my knuckles stuffed in my eyes, itching.

It sounds like there's something living in my breadmaker. We're having French Toast for dinner tomorrow or the next night, and I'm making breadmaker Brioche for it. The usual loopy whir of the machine is rather nice, but it occasionally throws in this knock that sounds like there's a rat in it trying to hammer his way out. Eeeew. :::shudder:::

After years of baking in relative ease, I've come face to face with my biggest irritation. No brown sugar. I was craving butterscotch brownies. So I bearded the sugar lion in his den and discovered that brown sugar is, in fact, sugar with molasses, not the leftovers of sugar processing as I had been led to believe. So I made brown sugar, and baked butterscotch brownies. They should be cool any minute, and then I'm having one (or three) with a nice, big glass of milk.

I should have taken the boys for a walk today. This is my third day of Operation Look Really Hot that I've missed it. It was 93 degrees at 6pm though, so I'm thinking I have a valid excuse. I hate heat.

I also hate it when TheHusband breaks wind and then complains that I don't like it. I've courteously avoided breaking wind in front of him during our last nearly 7 years together. Surely he thinks I am worthy of the same courtesy. He claims he can't control it. Um, right. I've pushed 8 and 9 pound babies out of a nearby location and have no problems not farting in front of people, what's his excuse?
I am sure Gerard Butler would carefully avoid breaking wind in front of a lady. Mission: Find Gerard Butler and ascertain veracity of previous statement.
TheHusband and I have been married for nearly 4 years. I still prefer to use the restroom with the door closed. He has no problems leaving it open. There are just some things that should remain a mystery. Heck, leave me at least a little of the romance.

Speaking of romance, if we make it to December without having broken the post-(and pre in this case) baby dry spell, we'll have officially gone a whole quarter of our marriage to date, not having marital relations. This, I am not okay with. I don't care how tired he is. At least make an effort. Doesn't he realize that many men would be more than happy to have a wife with an appetite like mine? Physical touch is my primary love language (thank you, Dr. Gary Chapman, author of The Five Love Languages). His is acts of service (stuff like keeping the house clean). I'm doing a kick-ass job of holding up my end of the bargain, where's my nooky?