Please, I beg you. Talk to this woman.
I'm trapped in here. Every day - fine-tuning blog posts on life's little mysteries, the general quirkiness of people, or her latest shoe fetish.
Problem is, Mrs. Chako isn't letting her inner blogger out. You got it - me, trapped in here like a hamster trapped in one of those little plastic balls - I can see out, but I can't get anywhere past the plastic - running in circles. Or like the boy in the bubble - watching all the other kids play on the blogground, while I sit in my hypoallergenic chamber and sigh.
She's always got some excuse that ends with "I'm tired."
"We just closed the books on one of the top 10 companies in the world - I'm tired."
"I just unloaded and put away 400+ boxes and items from the move - I'm tired."
"I worked on our press release and audit committee presentation until midnight and had a conference call with tax at 1 a.m. - I'm tired."
"I haven't had a massage, a manicure and pedicure, or set foot in a DSW in a month - I'm tired."
"I'm behind in reading everyone's blog and I'm trying to catch up - I'm tired."
Anyhoo . . . hope one of you can talk some sense into her. Doesn't someone want to hear about the treasures she's found moving? Or her new found fear of 7th grade girls? Or about the one box the movers refused to unpack and what was in it? Or her attempt to teach Betty how to use the Chako children to pick up eligible single dads? Or how she can't wait to go to Vegas and watch Steel Panther with her favorite pals?
If the words keep piling up, she's gonna suffocate me.
Get on her case - oh, and tell her to get a pedicure. Her toenails look like shit.
The Wife's Inner Blogger