Jason gleefully informed me last night that due to my copious consumption of fiber, as of late, I've been "extremely gassy" in my sleep.
This is significant because he has never, ever, heard me fart on purpose.
Before we got married, we drafted a "prenuptial agreement".
I agreed to not get a buzz cut or ever start farting and/or burping in front of him on purpose.
I forget what he agreed to. I'm assuming he's already broken it by now, because it was probably something like, "I agree to hang my clothing in the actual closet instead of on the closet door."
For the love of God.
Anyway. That's what marriage is after a few years, I suppose.
In other, less flatulent news, I'm really going to try to start updating my weight-loss blog more. It's looking kind of sad and pathetic. I had been only updating when I walk, and since I suck, it's not been updated much. I'm going to try to write about my own personal feelings on weight loss and other exciting topics. Because, clearly, I have a lot to say about, well, everything. But especially that.
Oh, and it's only...164 days until we go to Disney World. In case you were wondering!