the Mrs.

Long story short, I’m doing much better.

My weight the other day was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration since I rushed in from the car [what else does a OCD person do? They drive 800 miles and rush in the house and jump on the scale . . .] and it was an evening weight with clothes on. The very next morning [Tuesday] I was 146.5 and this morning 145.

I was in panic mode. I was in frustration mode.

But the rest of it was not an exaggeration: the horse poo, the light bulbs, the dishes, [not one dish was done in five days!] the RS lesson, my missing pillow, lost Orion, the bike wreck, the melted chips, the spent money, the off-champagne paint, the licorice, the Augustine feller, the grass catcher.

But I cope. That’s what I do. That’s part of who I am. You may call me Mrs. Cope. It’s what I’m used to.

And that reminded me about the sign.

Because Monday night I got home around 8 and mowed the lawn. Tuesday I worked 12 hours at the school, five hours for the Census, made two pans of cookie bars for the reunion, did two batches of clothes and one batch of dishes. I also finished mowing what I had left the night before, watered the lawn and fed the horses and dog . . . and crawled [literally] into bed at 10:30.

I get crabby about life and I apologize. I guess if it were bad enough I’d do something about it. But instead I cope.

Here’s the sign. I’m just sayin’!


tee hee.

[I know there are lots of guys out there that don’t really need a sign.]

2 thoughts on “the Mrs.

  1. Tami

    I love that sign! Makes me laugh every time. My husband, on the other hand, doesn’t even chuckle. Go figure!

  2. weighingmatters Post author

    I have seen times when this sign explained everything. In other circumstances, not so much. I’m sure John would fit into the not so much category. But surely he knows those who do!

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