She ain't messin with no broke, broke.

Got plans for the weekend? I, for one, will be donning my yellow rubber gloves (they're super) and scrubbing, dusting, swiffing, mopping, and vaccuuming til my little heart's content. Okay, I'm guilty, this isn't the plan because I really want to.
Mostly our weekend will be filled with things we have neglected with Wedding Madness and Talent's Visit. Well, that and we're broke. Not broke in the traditional sense, but we've just been less frugal than usual. It makes me nervous and a good way to take care of that is to distract with hard-core cleaning. After a day full of scrubbing, I like to round out the domestication by cooking a great meal.
And yet, as a woman, somehow, this all makes me feel weird. As if it's my duty, but damn-it-all, Society, I won't be smilin'! Well, guilty again... I love to cook.
Good lord. What has happened to me? I used to be so cool. It slowly occured to me while Talent was here: I've got to funk things up a bit. I've gone back to wearing what I want instead of "What if I run into MIL?" clothes. And next week, yessiree, I'm chopping off my hair. It's a big deal for me as it took a little over two years to grow it out from the soft spikes that once adorned my head. I'm not going too short, but FUNKY is key. That's my goal. Back to funk. Screw the Mother In Law who shook her head at my orange shoes and told me, "I like you so much better with hair."
I'm going back to my roots. Not literally, I mean, I'll probably color my hair, too. Hopefully it doesn't fall out; my hair has been through allot these past few months. Then, alas, while cleaning... I'd probably look more like this: