Porn For Handymen or Artists — Okay, any man really.

 I read so many blogs where the authors seem to have such interesting lives and I wonder, why isn't my life more interesting? The most excitement we get in our house these days is when the Sears tool catalog arrives in the mail. I can forget about Jon even looking at me, let alone kissing me, for days. Why would he need my affection when he can page through the one-inch thick semi-gloss pages of all the things he wants but can't afford?

Does Sears know their catalog is akin to porn? Jon was drooling over some sort of vice grip he saw this morning as I was leaving for work. He said, "You should have thrown this away and not given it to me." So, I ripped it out of his hands and threw it in the trash can. His reply: "You know I'm just going to dig that out after you leave, right?" I'm grateful it is just full of tools and not naked women. Maybe Jon will make a collage of all the things he wants from Sears and post it on our bedroom wall to remind me what he wants for Father's Day. As long as it isn't on our ceiling above our bed, I'm okay with it.