This is as fancy as it gets. No Pottery Barn sheets here, just Target. No high thread count. As you can see, not even matching pillow cases. And that quilt? I hate it. Marital compromise. As you can tell, the only thing I'm interested in decorating is myself.
The Pastor has been gone for 18 days. This also means I haven't slept for 18 days. Or made the bed. When I finally collapse in the wee hours of the morning after watching all the Casey Anthony trial I could record, this is how it looks. It ain't pretty, and neither am I without my beauty sleep.
I'm to the point of needing a script for Ambien. Or one of those drips like Michael Jackson had.
Or a Pastor.
-sent from my iPhone