Right now my Facebook icon is the cartoon version of me that's in my header. Someone mentioned something about feather dusters to me and I told them my dirty little secret:

I don't own a feather duster.

"WHAT?!" you say? "How could you deceive us so!?" you ask?

*shrug*

Them's the breaks, folks. I own no feather duster. I used to have a duster (albeit of the non-feather variety) before we moved. It was one of the many, many things that got left behind. And this is where the "dork" part of "Domestic Dork" enters in: I haven't gotten a new duster because I haven't dusted since we moved.*

But guess what.

"What?"

That's not the only deception.

*gasp*

That's right folks. There's more.

• I haven't been that thin since I got married.
  
• I've never put a bow on Lucy.
  
• My eyes aren't that green.
  
• My skin hasn't been that clear since I was five.
  
• And if my hair ever appeared that red, shiny, and volumnous I could die happy.

But I'm allowed to take artistic license in my self-representation because I'm so dang honest about the fact that my dust bunnies truly are breeding.

*Well, that's a slight exageration. I have done a few (very few) wipe downs with rags. I guess I shouldn't feel too embarassed. There isn't actually much to dust in our place (almost no pictures on the wall, no book shelf, no knick-knacks, etc.).