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5 top tips for boosting your income

If you are looking for extra ways of making money, then the good news is there are some things you can do. There’s no sure-fire way to get rich quick, but there are ways that you could earn a little bit more cash.

Here are 5 top…

Different Styles And Types Of Furniture To Try For Your Home

Everybody has a dream to buy a house for their own and design it as per their choice which pleases them as well their loved ones. Whether it is an apartment, two storeyed villa or tenement people always are keen to design it and make it more attractive and…

Fun Repurposing Projects for Those Old Blinds

No room is complete without the right blinds! But, that doesn’t mean the same set of blinds will look right at home in your living room until the end…

I cannot be the only one...who sometimes realizes that as independent, as self assured, and as confident of a woman that I think I am, there are times that I am surprised by my need to be acknowledged for doing a job usually considered masculine.  How could a woman who want's to be treated as an equal in the world, and more importantly in my marriage, feel the need to receive the proverbial pat on the head by a man for a job well done...this is a mystery.

This anti-women's liberation tale begins on the way to Sonny Boy's school, after gathering the lunch box, backpack, and debating over the necessity of wearing a jacket in place of his super hero cape to school, we finally made it into the car.  As we are pulling out of the garage, I was mentally checking off my "are we really ready to leave check list", when I noticed a dingy little dash light refusing to turn off.  This orange light, with it's exclamation point within parenthesis, immediately caused a cord of anxiety within me (not to mention irritation). I started obsessing over what this light could mean, how was I going to fix it, and where was the time to fix it going to come from? After safely dropping Sonny Boy off at school I did something I truly despise, something that I generally avoid as though it were a kid with a runny nose, I opened up the car's owners manual.

I spent ten long seconds looking for the dash warning light section (the manual was surprisingly well organized) and deciphered the problem, the tires needed air.  My first thought was to simply not drive the car until the Hubby returned from work, at which time he could take the car to put air in the tires, but I really wanted to go out and grab a few things, meaning I was going to have to handle this all own my read the rest of  how I realized how far I am from being a feminist, please visit my blog: I Cannot Be The Only One...

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