Close, but no cigar

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the epitome of being married. No, I am not comparing being married to shitting on the toilet. Being married is all about the placement of the toilet paper. Notice, there is a roll of toilet paper. Notice, there is a toilet paper roll. -_- One must simply take the toilet paper 2 more inches to the left, pull out the toilet paper roll bar and insert the fresh roll. But, is that a husbands job.... nooooooo. Now, don't get me wrong. I think, you think I'm overreacting. This is the SECOND time this week that the toilet paper roll has been placed two inches shy of where it needs to be. This is definitely part of my husband's master plan which involves me losing my mind and him claiming a life insurance policy. Or, this could go in my favor and he doesn't wish to live past his 27 years of life. We shall see.

On another note..... I am getting really damn sick of seeing certain pins on pinterest. FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS. I think that is what I should have named my blog. Damn. Too late now! I really, really, really despise the woman who INSISTS that she can consistently buy groceries for her family of 6 for 50 bucks a week. It. Makes. Me. Crazy. Nothing like reading something like that to make you feel like a failure. Do you know how many people I cook for?! Two! Do you know how much it costs me every time I go to the grocery store?! A heck of a lot more than 50 measly dollars. I want to know who this woman thinks she is making these crazy claims. I tried spending only 50 dollars, I really did. But, you know what? My food tasted like shit, I didn't have options, my cravings were making me crazy and I had to buy a bunch of crap to keep the cost down. SO SHUT IT woman who spends 50 dollars per week. You can kiss my well fed a$$!