Every now and again I have one of those "I'm really NOT single anymore -- duh!" moments. You may laugh because this seems like such an obvious thing to realize but it doesn't always sink in. Considering that I spend many nights staring over the top of my computer at the living embodiment of my lack of singleness, it surprises me too.

The lack of singleness is particularly glaring on Monday morning when I am asked what I did all weekend and I have to struggle to remember. And not for the same reasons that I used to struggle to remember. (Those glaring reminders that I WASN'T single.) I would struggle to find a story that could be shared with the rest with my fellow cube-mates that wouldn't land me in HR. There were times it was more of a struggle than others. Domesticity doesn't have the same juicy vignettes, as it turns out. It's not that I'm bored, it's that I miss the juicy tidbits.

After all, the juiciest thing that happens in my married life is if we have a "run in." And while it used to be fun to pick those things apart with anyone and everyone willing to listen, when you're married you join a cult. A Relationship Cult. You don't talk about the run-ins or the imperfections. That would mar the dream for everyone else, especially my single friends. They all need to believe that what they pine for is WORTH pining for, or what would be the point?? So, you don't share your run-ins and this can often leave much out of the recounting of your weekend. Not to mention leaving your blog a little lacking in material.

What's the answer? Talk about the spats and pick them apart for all of your friends (and all of the internet)? I'm against that. The spats tend to expand to the nth degree when exposed to air. However, sitting on the spats has been known to cause hemorrhoids. (This is scientific fact, my friends.) I've often thought about trying to pick up some hobby that I could get really into to exorcise the Spat Demons, but what if we were in a heavy spat zone and I crocheted 17 sweaters? I'm thinking someone would figure this to be a sign.

So, it's the Relationship Cult that keeps your tales short and your blogs less bloggy. Because the fact is if I were posting some of the stuff that comes up in arguments, it really could make some people laugh til they peed in their pants. I'm not making this up, it's crazy. This weekend it was about grapes. I mean, seriously. Grapes. It doesn't get any sillier than this.

I guess I should take that grapes of wrath stuff more seriously next time, huh?