Yep, it’s Wednesday, and I’m still calling this my Monday morning dirty secret spill.

For one, it still kind of feels like Monday since this week has flown by and, for another, it’s my website so I can do that if I want to.

Okay, are you ready? Because here…we…go!

I love rinsing my sinuses out with saline water.

I’m ecstatic that it’s snowed two days in a row and that it’s cold again (and I’m not kidding in the slightest).

I don’t like Instagram pictures of food—but I’m guilty of putting a few up myself.

(That’s (stellar) whole wheat pizza dough made from scratch and homemade sauce and, no, I’m not ashamed.)

I don’t like Instagram pictures of yoga postures, but—you guessed it—I’ve put up some of my own.

Oh, and while I’m not even at 100 Instagram followers yet, I’m doing better than my previous tally of 8.

I like the word tally.

And sandbar.

And I strongly dislike the word lunch (even though I adore lunch itself).

I like the word Legos, though, and I’m still digging playing with them. Actually, I got my husband a set for his Valentine’s Day gift. (That gorgeous creation above is his and that teensy hand is my daughter’s, who’s impatiently wanting to play with it.)

I’m still watching Glee and—although the Glee club is called “New Directions” (please say this over and over again until you get it) and despite my husband insisting that it’s making him dumber—I’m still having fun watching.

I haven’t seen Downton Abbey since my previous announcement of our break-up (but I’m not saying that I’ll never watch it again either).

Because I don’t believe in saying never.

Also, I don’t understand writers who think their writing stinks or who fish for compliments. If you stink—or if you think you stink—why are you writing? There’s nothing wrong with owning your strengths. We are so afraid of being perceived as arrogant that we sometimes can’t even embrace our confidence. Let’s reclaim confidence.

Okay, off my soapbox now.

Speaking of soap, I loathe laundry and mine tends to pile up because I wait and do it all in one day in a few large loads. I tell my husband (and myself) that it’s because I have a small child and the laundry room is downstairs and that if, someday, we have a washing machine up near the kitchen (where they should be), that the laundry will always be done. However, this doesn’t completely take into account that the part about laundry I dislike is the folding.

I know how to fold a fitted sheet…wait for it…two different ways! (But I still bundle it up in a kind-of-neat ball and put it in the linen closet.)

My daughter is snoring next to me. She’s only napping because she’s home sick. While I don’t want her to feel unwell, her little body sleeping soundly next to my furiously typing one is like a tiny piece of heaven that I’ll keep stored away in my heart forever.

I’m using Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You? as a mousepad, and I’m leaning forward at an awkward, uncomfortable angle to reach the mouse because the book is wedged between my slumbering child’s leg and my own.

I refuse to use my laptop’s lame attempt at a “mouse”—and I insist on using a real one instead.

Finally, I hope my little girl sleeps for awhile, because, frankly, I need the break.

Over and out.

Photos: Author’s own.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill—Um, Wednesday Edition. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Here goes.

My second dirty secret spill, in what I hope will be a weekly special here on my website.

The above picture is from roughly four years ago, when I was asked to be a hair model. I like the picture, though, and I like to switch my bio images up every now and then, so I used it.

And…Downton Abbey and I broke up.

It wasn’t messy and I don’t have hard feelings, but, last week’s episode, frankly, wasn’t enjoyable to watch. It was, for me, just too much horrible drama.

Yet, part of the reason saying (a temporary?) good-bye to Downton wasn’t terribly difficult was because…I’m already seeing someone else.

Yes, I’ve been watching—drum roll—Glee.

This might be a television show from 2009—and I may or may not have religiously made fun of it—but I’d never seen even a five-second clip of this show until this past week.

Because after last Monday’s dirty secret spill two things happened: one, my daughter got sick and we spent quite a lot of time holed up together at home and, two, well, I’ll get to that shortly.

So, back to my child getting sick.

She loves music. Loves. (I actually think that she could be in a glee club someday.)

I was browsing our Amazon Prime selections and noticed Glee as a “recently added tv show” and I knew instantly that she would adore the musical aspect of it.

Needless to say, she did break out her microphone to begin singing along after less than five minutes of the first episode, and it helped make our week amazing rather than difficult.

And, the second thing that happened last week.

This:

A

And this:

(Yes that’s a one-horsepower car.)

And this, too:

(Yep, that’s a full kitchen, a loft—oh and my husband later made me a lava lamp.)

Oh, and…this:

Yes, my name is Jennifer and I’m obsessed (again, at age thirtysomething) with Legos.

Also last week, I officially diagnosed myself with ADEVVC.

Adult Delayed Eddie Vedder Voice Crush.

I might have owned Pearl Jam’s first album Ten on a cassette tape (Google it if you were too young to have ever used Myspace—which, much to my joy, is often referenced in these early Glee episodes), but I was never a Pearl Jam fan. I lost interest after Vs. (Although I did buy that on—ahem—CD.)

Anyways, I’m still constantly listening to the Into the Wild soundtrack (hence my ADEVVC).

I now have 51 followers on Instagram rather than 8. (Not to brag or anything.)

I keep tissues in my bra because I’m usually wearing yoga leggings with no pockets. (Hey, at least I don’t keep pencils, money and a full-on purse selection in there like my great-grandma did—yet.)

I feel bad a$$ when I drive my stick-shift Jetta.

I haven’t listened to my voice mails in nearly two weeks.

I’m still not used to my iPhone’s touch screen. (Which is probably why I didn’t text you back yet.)

I’m down with Madonna’s general need for attention, but not with her recent usage of the N-word.

I was rooting for Gwen Stefani to have a girl.

I won’t let my husband take our Christmas tree down.

I was thrilled to finally share some of my storytelling with the world via this article about envy, but I’m not really an envious person—which is why I wrote it.

One last dirty secret spill for this Monday morning:

That caged girl piece I wrote?

I’m really proud of it—it’s my personal best so far—but it wasn’t hard for me to share.

It didn’t feel courageous or brave or any of the other beautiful responses that readers have messaged me (but thank you). And here’s why:

Some things shouldn’t have to be secrets in the first place.

Over and out—for now.

Photo credit: Author’s own; Neal Jennings/Flickr.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.