Hey y'all! Sitting here after a beautiful sunny day in the South!
I'm to the point that I'm ready to get claws like 'Freddie Kruger', reach around to my back and just rip it open when I'm trying to work around the house. My husband, who is now retired, is here ALL day now and can't understand why I can't get up at the crack of dawn and hit the floor ready. I grab a diet soda (traded coffee for it) and relax my muscles from whatever position I was in in bed.
This is going to sound like I am the most evil woman on the face of this earth but, if only for 15 minutes, he could experience the pain I'm in I know he will understand what living with this awful debilitator is. Am I a horrible person for this?View Thread