If it's meant to be...

It’s up to me.

don't mind the super random and way more optimistic than i feel quote of the day. if it's meant to be - it's actually not up to me. from 9 to 6pm - it's actually up to my boss. No really, my boss. At work. And after that my other other boss - also known as my husband takes over his shift. And on the weekends, my dad goes back to being the boss of me.

So really, it's rarely up to me :)
Although they are all quite good at letting me believe that I'm the boss of myself. Only when questioned though.

--::--
a little document-able tidbit that legitimizes what I’ve known all along: there is definitely a strand of crazy in my DNA.

So, I lied. Not just “off the cuff” lied but planned, plotted and schemed kinda lied. I did what every wife, jokes about doing but maybe thinks twice before pulling it off. In my case, I did think twice – as in, is this enough or should I add an extra sweater to the lot.

Yup, I did a little jcrewing online. In my defense, I was saving myself and my husband 20% as I gleefully took advantage of their final clearance sale. Hrmph. It would have been nice to be applauded for that. But instead, I got bated out by my own father.

So where did the lying happen? Well, I usually have all my things (mail and packages) delivered to my parents house – I never did get around to changing my addy especially since I always thought of our condo as being more of a temporary type of dwelling. Don’t ask me why – but in my logic – it made sense. Well dad decided to play a game of his own. And this is where you see the effects of a man who has lived thirty odd years in one house with four women. He has obviously picked up a thing or two about vengefully bating one out when he’s got his emotions and panties in a knot.

So dad bates me out. Mikey is surprised. Astonished actually. And I am not a happy or trusted camper. TheybasicallythinkISUCK. Now, the strange thing is that mikes is a big shopper just like myself – so I don’t really know why I lied. Knowing my husband, he would’ve just said: “Oh, that’s pretty – you should totally get it” and yet, I went ahead and lied about it.

I wonder what that says about me. Apart from the fact that in my old age, I’m becoming a pathological liar. My Dad would be so proud. I'm sure he'd say I inherited that from my mom's side of the gene pool.

And now, I’m off to trek through 20cms of once-fluffy-white-stuff to get to the streetcar, then subway, then car. Pray for me. Or even better, buy me a ticket to some tropical country. One way will do just fine, thanks.