That's how it looked like our night was ending, until Kimmy (yep, that's Shrimp's real name... shall this be a future blog topic?) decided to offer me one more cocktail (YES, PLEAAAAAAAAAASE!).
But, alas, that is not how the night started out...
I came home from work tonight, and although I usually text and let her know I am heading out on my bike, I decided to coast on home tonight and "surprise" her. Well, she was not surprised, just a bit perturbed as to why I didn't call. Where's her sense of romance? Probably got lost somewhere in the yet-to-be-identified-pet-accident that she found at my time of arrival on the hardwood upstairs. No one got that usual shameful look when we threw out the "Did you do that?!" at them... hmmmmm... me's beginning to think Kimmy had an accident on the bedroom floor. Just kidding :)
Let me just clarify... the last few weeks have been nothing but HELLISH. Ok, maybe that's not the best description (nothing has gone horribly wrong, all of our loved ones [that were still alive a month or two ago] are still with us and we haven't suffered any huge financial losses), but I *finally* defended my research for my masters degree (and passed!), and... well that is about it.
But! But! I hate research, and although I think what I am doing is important (and I figured out some important stuff to really help injured veterans!), it's not my cup of tea... so I resume complaining. NO ONE, wants to write, and re-write, and reeeeeeeeee-write the same manuscript a million (ok, like 10-ish) times and... ok, well, just imagine doing any job 10 times, you get it :) Anyways, my final-final draft is due Tuesday.
And back to Friday night...
Of course, after the accident/incident was cleaned up, it was time to get our evening started. Being the soon-to-be homeowners and homos that we are, we headed to Home Depot (romantic, huh?). I realized we (I?) had a problem when I was like, "Why do I always have to go to the bathroom when I'm at Home Depot?" Then I was like, "Damn, I must be at Home Depot WAY too much to be thinking that!"
We hit what seemed liked every isle in the store. Between moving out and moving in, we either need to fix something or prep something for our old or new lives. I am less a shopper and TV watcher than I have ever been at any point in my life. Kim is less so on both accounts. So, as I ogled back splash tiles and closet organizers she intercepted my dreams with such facts as "We don't even remember the exact granite color or know the room dimension!" The NERVE of her!
Anyways, we made it out alive, grabbed some dinner and cocktails, and were back home well before 10pm, because we can't survive past then in our late 20s. The dogs greeted us, we poured a couple more cocktails and pondered over new home essentials on Amazon, until Kim came down from the bathroom and uttered the above statement... solidifying her stance that I will never in my lifetime get the hilarious option to name a kitty "Minnie Meows."
Now I'm sipping on my last cocktail of the evening, and watching Kim hold her breath in an effort to cure a bad case of the hiccups.
I just have one request, and that is that we all gather our karma, good luck, and warm-fuzzy thoughts into one pool and hope that one week from today Kimmy and I will be snuggling up on a cheap Ikea mattress in our new house, surrounded only by our favorite creatures and few essentials. That would be a four-day-late closing but as soon as we can muster hope for an this time.
Ciao!
~Lacey (that's Idaho for "Tater.")
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