The Grass is Indeed Greener

You know that saying “the grass is always greener on the other side” usually I find this to be totally true.  Example?  I dumped a hot pilot that I met when I had jury duty for Mike who was even hotter, had a rocking personality and didn’t say things like “Delta, Alpha, Niner prepare for take off” when we were fooling around in a pitiable attempt to turn me on.  And to further illustrate my point: Mike decided to make an honest woman out of me.  It was so romantic.  He got totally smashed in Mexico, proposed to me, stumbled back to our hotel and barfed all night.  Did he mean to ask me to marry him?  I have no idea.  But it appears to be working, so whatever.

Anyway, I have decided I want to move back into our old house.   I was out there cleaning last night in preparation for our "open house" today, when I looked out at our 5 acres of nothing and no one and because I had accidentally switched my iPod to random setting, a Lionel Richie song that would normally make me dry heave began to play and I was filled with nostalgia.  Admittedly, I was the one that insisted we move to a neighborhood in the first place with the argument that we would be closer to Mike’s dental office and that I desperately needed to be reintroduced to civilization.  I realize now I was so, so wrong.  I do not need neighbors and grocery stores and malls and convenience to make me happy, I just need a live horse.

Yes, that is right.  I want to buy a girl horse and wear cowboy boots and get one of those trucks that needs diesel fuel, with a whole bunch of tires, so I can buy bales of hay for my horse, Lightening.  Of course I wish I would have thought of this before we built our new house, moved all of our stuff, bought new furniture, refinanced our mortgage, landscaped our yard, put in a water feature, finished the basement and got the girls settled in school but sometimes the Lord works in mysterious ways.  So now, I am faced with the daunting task of explaining this to Mike.  I feel bad, I really do, but marriage is about compromise and I never care when he goes golfing.  XO