don't get me wrong. i have plenty of things that are mine. but are they really
mine???
jersey. i have wanted a great dane of my own since i left home, and finally, after
years of begging, pleading and other such desperate exercises which need no formal proclamations, i got my dog. but i can't truly claim her as mine. bryan cleans up her elephantine tokens, takes
afternoon naps with her, buys her dog food after i've fed her leftover taco bell for 2 days, yells at me when i pour ballatore in her water bowl, and just overrall loves her (note: he will never admit to loving her, but i've seen the way they look at eachother). therefore, she's not 100% mine.
my boobs. let's face it. i don't even own
half of these. i own MAYBE a third of one of them. a majority of them was paid for by bryan, and he's pretty convinced that they are they for his every whim and fleeting desire. and after the way i have been poked and prodded during breast exams and before my surgery, i suppose my
plastic surgeon and gynecologist also have stock in my chest as well. so even though they're attached to my body, they certainly don't belong to me.
hehe, thought you'd click that link and actually see a pic of my boobs, eh?
not my wedding ring (the diamond is a peters' family heirloom), not my clothes (hi ashley), not my home (in 28.5 years it will be, wahoo!), not my
fancy new cell phone (there's a couple of fang marks in it that proves it's jersey's), not my big toe (i offer no explaination for that one). i'm telling you, nothing i have is mine.
until now!
i am getting my very own home office! thanks to my fabulous and doting husband, we are turning our spare room into MY room. and when i say spare room, i mean laundry-folding,
kitty litter box-smelling, random furniture-dwelling, room equivalent to a junk drawer room.
oh sure, i have the bedroom where i can watch my reality shows without bryan making smart comments... or i have the
living room where i am forced to play hours of fetch with the dog the second i sit on the couch... or i have the kitchen, where i would have no idea WHAT to do except pour myself a 3rd bowl of cereal... or i have
bryan's office, which is a boy's office, since it's always messy, smells a little funny, and has bikini-clad virtual chicks as the computer's screensaver.
no, now i have my
own retreat. a place that no boy or animals can come in to, a place that will be predominently pink, a place that will have a scented candle on the desk, a place that will be adorned with my arts, crafts, scrapbooking supplies, photos, puffy paint, glitter, glue guns, and anything else that should never be in the unsteady, dirty hands of a boy.
i have to give a public thank-you to bryan, who has begun the transformation by building me a desk. the top is a dry-erase board and the surface is at least 5' x 3'. it's mounted high to ensure a slobber-free zone, and has steel legs. i'll post pics as soon as the room is presentable...