Old Conversations from Cohabitation

While laying on the couch the other night watching tv:

Me: “Oh my God, look! I just pulled the bottom of my underwear below my shorts!”
CB: “What is wrong with you?”
Me: “How giant are my underpants? I seriously thought I was pulling down my shorts and, instead, it’s actually my underpants hanging out!”
CB: “You know that you don’t have to show me these things, right?”
Me: “But I knew you’d want to see it because it’s crazy.”
CB: “You’re crazy.”
Me: “Same thing.”

***

Me: “I wonder what our future kids will be like….”
CB: “Awesome.”
Me: “Well, obviously. But, like, I wonder what traits of ours they’ll have, you know?”
CB: “Well, they’ll probably be funny and likely pretty coordinated, especially if they have my genes.”

Looks at me.

Me: “And should be wrapped in bubble wrap at all times?”
CB: “Yeah, because they’ll have your genes too, I suppose.”

***

CB was in the kitchen slicing the chicken as I was preparing the side dish. He was totally silent.

Me: “Get the lime juice……..ok, 1/3 teaspoon of lime juice……”
CB, silent.
Me: “Ok, did the lime juice…….now baking soda…baking soda…do we have baking soda?….ahh, baking soda! Ok, did the baking soda…….”
CB, silent.
Me: “Now mix…set aside….ok, got it.”
Me, looking over at CB: “How is it that you’re so quiet and I’m talking through every cooking step?”
CB: “What would I talk through?”
Me: “I don’t know…’Now I’m slicing the chicken…’. That’s probably what I’d do. But I’m just realizing that I basically just talked through every single cooking step I did while you stood here quietly.”
CB: “To be fair to you, though, you kind of talk through the steps of your whole life.”
Me: “I love how you understand me."

Happy Wednesday, everyone! Sorry for brief blogging this week, but check out the Friday Wrapup and I'll be back to normal(ish) on Monday! 

I'm super old.

Re-posting because ohmygod I can't even think straight, you guys.

***

This morning someone called me ma’am. And while we all know that it’s not the first time, it didn’t sting any less, you guys.

You can tell I've matured by
how I hold my wine glass. 

Which got me to thinking about when, exactly, I became an adult. When did I turn from ‘miss’ to ‘ma’am’ and how on earth do I make it stop? Was it when I finally moved out on my own and started working in the “real world”? Was it when there was a 3 in front of my age and everyone assumed I’d finally matured? Or was it when I realized that, while my soul feels perpetually 16, my body clearly looks like a ma’am.  

Which got me to thinking about all of the things that happen to you as an adult that totally suck.

For example:  

You cannot sleep in. When I was a teenager and through most of my twenties, I could sleep half of the day away before even considering waking up. So much so that I used to go to my 11am “morning” class in college in pajamas. To be fair, though, the class was IN my dorm and so technically I didn’t have to leave my house.

But now, if I sleep until 8 it’s like I’ve hit the lottery, and even then, I’ve likely been waking up every half hour thinking I’ve missed a meeting or an alarm or I just really want to wake up to French press my coffee and read the newspaper. And then I get sad because I realize I’ve become an adult. And then CB points out that adults don’t normally have sparkle phones and I feel much better.

You check in on your 401K. Just that sentence alone says it all. And makes us simultaneously responsible and horrifically uncool, which is sort of the underlying theme of adulthood, I've found. 

You talk endlessly about what’s for dinner. Up until a few years ago, the contents of my grocery list included “ramen” or “peanut butter.” Though, to be fair, those sometimes are still on my list now (and don’t ask my friends about the time I confessed to putting ketchup on my egg noodles because you’ll find out that my friends are big fat liars and nobody should listen to them ever.)

But in the last few years I’ve become that person who watches cooking shows and reads cooking magazines to get Quick Weekday Meal ideas and stuff.

WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??

I mean, I’m not the person who rips recipes out of magazines and adds it to her cookbook. Hell, I’m not even the person who OWNS a cookbook. Except I totally am that person, you guys, and it’s freaking me out!

Yesterday, I had a whole conversation with my coworker about the best way to cook asparagus. And then I had a whole conversation with CB about what our menu options were for the week based upon the groceries I’d purchased.

And then my child-heart cried.

You use anti-wrinkle cream un-ironically. And you also make sure to put it on your neck, which is  a sign you take this sh*t seriously.

You start talking about things that hurt. This one is hard to admit because it’s the ultimate sign that you’re no longer twenty-something. But when you and your friends can sit around talking about joint pain and your bad backs, you know you’ve gone ‘round the bend.

Also, if you’re doing this while simultaneously looking at your 401k, just end it now.

You think of old people as young to make yourself feel better. 

It’s important to understand that the conversation you’re about to read happened while we were making the bed.

Me: “Did you hear that?”
CB: “What?”
Me: “Dustin Hoffman is 75.”
CB: “Yeah, he’s been around for a while.”
Me: “He looks really good for his age.”
CB: “He does.”

Silence, fluffing pillows.

Me: “I mean, if I had to guess, I’d never guess he was in his 70s.”
CB, clearly not as invested in the conversation: “Yeah.”

Silence, straightening the bed runner.

Me: “Do you think that’s because we’re getting older?”
CB: “What?
Me: “I mean, when I was younger, 75 sounded super-old. But now when I hear that someone’s 75 I’m like ‘oh, that’s not old at all.’”
CB, staring at me.
Me: “Like, do you think that it doesn’t seem old because I realize subconsciously that I’m closer to that person in age now than I was 15 years ago and so I’m trying to make myself feel younger by making them not seem old?”
CB: “I think you think about this kind of stuff more than the average person.”
Me: “But do you know what I mean?”
CB: “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

And then he left the room, likely to contemplate how wise and deep I am.

And the list goes on. What did I miss? 

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!

***

This week's book is a throwback, but the review mentions Tori Spelling and wasn't even written by me, you guys! You must check it out. Click here and peruse around! What are you guys reading these days?

***

If there was ever a dramatization via Dalmation and kitten of what life in our apartment is like, this is it. Obviously I'm the kitten. Because I'm dainty.

***

Speaking of my dainty ways, the Video of the Week. I can't get this song out of my head and it's likely because I really am all about that bass, when you really get down to it.

Also, this morning I was playing it on my phone and danced into the kitchen where CB was making his lunch to take to work. "Please don't bring that song over here."

Obviously I kept dancing near him.

"Get your booty bump away from me."

Kept dancing.

"You're a crazy person."

I'll let you decide who spoke those words of love.

Enjoy!

Happy Friday, everyone!

Underpants, underpants, and more underpants.

I just had a conversation about my Booty-Bump last night as I discussed the fact that I plan on wearing it under my wedding dress. Obviously.

Which leads me to re-posting this from last year about my GIANT UNDERPANTS. Seriously, you guys, underpants don't fit my freakish body.

However, I promise to post something real, in the form of the Friday Wrapup, on Friday! See you then!

***


Ok, so I don’t remember if I’ve ever told you guys about my ongoing issues with giant underpants. Have I?  Basically, it’s that I own and wear - accidentally - giant underpants that never fit my fanny.  Why? Because I was blessed with a behind that is simply an extension of my upper legs and in no way has shape or form.

Which, I must say, is a really unfortunate attribute in a post J-Lo world.

Anyway, I’ve had many a situation where I’ve found myself walking down the street while having to pull up my giant underpants as they make their way down my thighs. And one time I was getting patted down by an airport security person (like, I was at the airport, so it wasn’t inappropriate or anything) and I TOTALLY COULD TELL that she felt my underpants around my upper thighs and kept moving her hand up and down over it to figure out what the hell it was.

So obviously I immediately texted Courtney and was like “I think the airport security woman just realized that my underpants are not where they’re supposed to be.” And she was like “this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having with an adult.”

Also, I want to just cut to the chase where we experience the inevitable moment of you telling me that I’m just buying the wrong size underpants.

First of all, no I’m not.

Second of all, people in the underpants industry need to start making undergarments for people without any junk in the trunk. You can’t just assume there’s going to be a little something there. Some of us have tried for years – via chocolate cake and extra servings of pasta – to create the illusion of a bump, to no avail.

Some of us have even purchased the As Seen On TV Booty Bump, complete with the experience of your friends giving you the “good game” pat on your rear after a super funny joke or something and being like “why does your butt feel like pushy cotton?” And then you have to be like “What? That’s what butts feel like.” And they’re like “No, we have butts. That’s not what they feel like.” And then you hang your head in shame because FAIL.

Anyway, this happened, yet again, yesterday morning – and ALL DAY – while walking to work. I made the Number One Big Underpants Mistake and wore a dress. This is a no-no when your undergarments don’t fit because they will inevitably surpass the hemline of your dress, if you’re not careful, and then you’ll become THAT GIRL.

Also, I’m totally that girl.  

Tights might be a good option.

And I realize that if I bought smaller underpants, they’d likely stay around my waist because they’d be tighter. But then there’s the great debate of “What’s better? Underpants around your thighs or muffin top?”

A question for the ages.

Anyway, wearing accidentally giant underpants with a dress is super uncomfortable because you have to develop a finely honed skill of pulling your underpants up while simultaneously pulling your dress down so that you don’t moon half of Manhattan. And you also find yourself having these conversations with your better half.

CB: “So I saw that you were going to post something tomorrow about your underpants.”
Me: “Ugh, yes. They’re soooo big.”
CB: “You’re wearing the wrong underwear.”
Me: “It doesn’t happen to all of them, but enough to where I think that it’s the underwear, not me. I mean, they fall down ALL the time.”
CB: “But you’re the one buying the underwear, right?”
Me: “Right. But at least I have cute underwear.”
CB: “Kind of not the point.”
Me: “I think they’re either labeled wrong or my butt is even smaller than I thought it was. I mean, I can’t wear the Booty Bump every day.”
CB: “The what?”
Me: “The Booty Bump. It gives your booty a little bump.”
CB: “You know there are exercises you could do that would do that naturally so you don’t have to wear something called the Booty Bump?”
Me: “I’ve tried everything. If I do exercises it just makes my butt muscular and flat.”
CB: “But there are body builders and stuff who obviously can do it.”
Me: “So you want me to be a body builder so I can have a butt?”
CB: “No, you’re missing the point. I’m just saying that it’s possible to exercise and create that naturally by doing various exercises.”
Me: “I don’t want to do steroids.”
CB: “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
Me: “I’m just saying that sometimes my underpants fall down and sometimes it’s embarrassing and sometimes a girl wants the bump illusion. I’m living the dream.”
CB: “You know, you don’t have to tell me everything, right?”
Me: “But who else am I going to tell?”
CB: “Nobody.”
Me: “That’s not an option.”
CB: “I’m aware.”

So what do you guys think? Any suggestions?

Better Homes and Gardens: Beginners Edition

So I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I don’t really feel like an adult. And I don’t even mean that to imply that I feel like a child, because I don’t feel that way, either. I mean, I go to work, I pay rent, I buy all of my own things and even listen to NPR news each morning like only an adult would choose to do. I’m grown.

However, I still call my parents to ask them questions about all sorts of things, ranging from what mysterious illness I think I might have at any given moment to whether I can use dish soap in the dishwasher because I’m too lazy to go down the block to buy more.

Actually, that last part is a lie – I didn’t call my parents for that. Instead, I mentioned that it was my actual plan to CB and he was like “you absolutely can’t do that. My dad did that once and the kitchen filled up with bubbles.” So I’m guessing his dad doesn’t always feel like an adult either?  However, we learned the lesson by watching an adult do it, and so that’s almost the same thing as just calling and asking, I figure.

Anyway, I had another “we’re not adults” moment yesterday when we went to the nursery to check out what we’re using for our centerpieces and decided, while we were there, that we should try to finally grow something in the empty planters we’ve had on our balcony for a year.

So as we wandered around, we happened upon some pepper plants, which seemed like a natural thing for us to grow since we use peppers to cook with all the time. However, did you guys know that you can’t plant certain things next to other things? Like, apparently if you plant mint next to, say, a rose bush, the mint will try to attack the roses and there will be all out plant anarchy. Or something.

I did not, however, know this. CB did, but that’s basically because we’ve established that, in this partnership, he’s in charge of knowing parental-type things like that so our future children have someone to call when they’re panic-gardening 30 years from now.

Me: “Wow, I know nothing about this. I literally have never grown or planted anything. The only thing I kept alive, other than myself, was Oliver. And he was sort of self-sustaining.”
CB: “I don’t really know very much, either.”
Me: “But you knew that I should Google whether we could plant peppers next to basil!”
CB: “So me knowing that we should check Google is the bar we’re setting?”
Me: “Well, I just picked that flowering plant for the balcony because it had pink petals. So…yeah. I mean, it could be poisonous for all I know.”
CB: “It’s a perennial. It’s not poisonous.”
Me: “See! You totally know about gardening.”

However, the reason this marriage is going to work is because I was wise enough to realize we needed accessories.

Me: “Should we get that cute little gardening tool?”
CB: “I’m pretty sure we don’t need a gardening tool like that to plant three peppers and some basil.”
Me: “We do. And also I think you need gloves.”
CB: “Just me? You don’t need gloves?”
Me: “Ha! It’s funny that you think I’m having any part in the planting. You definitely don’t want me involved in that. I’ll be in charge of aesthetics, you be in charge of labor. Deal?”
CB: “Do I have a choice?”
Me: “And I’ll be in charge of cooking with the peppers and basil and feeding you if you promise to water them and keep them alive because I’ll definitely forget and they’ll die.”
CB: “Yeah, that seems fair. Deal.”

And then we high-fived. Like adult gardeners do.

So if you have any tips for us, green thumbs of the blogosphere, feel free to share them! Unless it’s to tell us that we can’t plant peppers next to basil. Because that ship has sailed and I’m planning our meals for the fall around our “I hope we don’t kill what we just bought!” strategy.

Living in harmony....for now. 

Happy Monday! 

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!

***

First of all, you guys are way ahead of me on the Book of the Week this week. There was a comment on the post before I even woke up! You guys are loyal. Love it.

So, for those of you who weren't up at the crack of dawn anxiously awaiting the Book of the Week, click here to check it out - it's "Spies of the Balkans" by Alan Furst. But you probably knew that already. Enjoy!

***

This woman should make us all take a good, hard look at what we've done today. For example, I tripped while getting out of bed and then almost fell asleep in the shower. So, you know, I could totally win a Ninja Warrior game show.

***

And now, the Video of the Week. Basically because I like the song and the video. I'm not a hard one to figure out.

Enjoy! Happy Friday!

What day is it?

I woke up extra early today so I could come into work an hour earlier than usual, which is in addition to the additional morning hour I come in for summer hours, and so my brain is two hours more tired than it normally is. Or something. I'm not good at math, but what I do know is that I definitely haven't had enough coffee. And that I thought today was Thursday, which had me super excited until Wednesday took all the fun out of it by being the actual day it is.

Anyway, bear (bare? I think it's bear and am too lazy to google it) with me in the coming two weeks or something as I hammer away at work so I can go on a tropical vacation and not check my Blackberry as sea snakes are trying to attack me. However, I would never leave you high and dry, so I went into the archives and found a post from almost exactly a year ago. How time flies! Enjoy, and happy Wedursday!

***

So, I think I have to stop mind-planning my wedding for a while because I just came across an article where they were talking about the hip new thing for brides. And it gave me such a flop sweat, anxiety-inducing mental scare that I immediately shut down the internet and tried to time-travel back to when I didn’t know how to use my brain to form words.

Bridal Party Boudoir Shots, you guys.

What are bridal party boudoir shots? They’re a combination of everything in my life that terrifies me, which I’m pretty sure is the exact opposite feeling I’m supposed to have about anything related to my wedding day. Also, I’m pretty sure nobody in my life needs to see me cuddling my friends, nearly-nude, in an 8x10 matte frame.

So um, first of all, how does this conversation first occur? You just, what, approach your future sister-in-law and be all casual and chatty about taking your clothes off together on camera? Because nothing would be more terrifying to me – or CB’s sister – than having that talk. She doesn’t even like to be hugged, so I’m pretty sure she has zero desire to get all cuddly in the nude with someone she’s forced to become family with in 12 months.

I can't even, you guys.

Also, I can tell you right now that my sister wouldn’t even finish that conversation. She’d be like “Girl, get real.” And then start talking about vegan food or something and I’d recoil in the corner realizing that nobody wants to take naked pictures with me.  

Second of all, can we flash back real quick to a few weeks ago when I tried on wedding dresses? (click here if you missed it). I barely like to get naked for myself, let alone for a photographer who is there to take “empowering” pictures of me and my friends.

“Designed to empower women, these photos are taken for many reasons, including bonding and having fun with friends and [gaining] the obvious element of strength and safety in numbers.”

Yeah. Because nothing says empowerment like casually sitting around without my top on while a guy takes photos of me hugging my sister! Also, I’m pretty sure we’re bonded. We’re good. Keep your clothes on.

But regardless of all of that, perhaps we’re missing the biggest detail of them all, which is:

WHO ARE THESE PHOTOS FOR?

Because I have to be honest with you. I’ve never sat around wishing that the clothed photos of my friends and me at a club were actually of us wearing matching underwear bottoms and hugging each other from behind. So perhaps they’re meant for your future husband? I mean, perhaps if it wasn’t a photo of me, his sister, and my sister, it may have been one of CB’s passing thoughts. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need to ever actually see that outside of his mind.  

Or have it framed above our couch to share with company.

So basically I’m hoping that this is a trend that will fade fast, because I have a few friends who have yet to get married and I’m really in no shape to be in anything but soft lighting from here on out, you guys.

But am I alone here? Or have we all gone ‘round the bend?

Conversations from Cohabitation

CB: "I gotta tell ya, my own personal hell would be if I was forced to only watch the Hallmark Movie Channel for the rest of my life. That would be my purgatory."
Me: "That really would be your purgatory. Which is odd, since I'd settle right into that new normal."
CB: "Just watching the commercials for the channel makes me squirm."

Silence.

CB: "If they said 'You have to sit here for eternity with your eyes pinned open, watching the Hallmark Movie Channel,' that would be my own personal hell."
Me: "Um, mine would be if they pinned my eyes open."
CB: "Not if there was golf on."
Me: "Now that's my purgatory."

***

CB, walking into the room as I'm watching a home improvement show.

CB: "What is this, the kissing cousins home improvement or something?"
Me: "Um, kissing cousins? No, this is Property Brothers. There's no such thing as the Kissing Cousins."
CB: "I thought maybe it was a decorating show."
Me: "Still no kissing cousins on those shows either. "

Happy Monday, everyone!

 

Friday Wrapup

Two posts, two days in a row! Let's get to it.

***

This week's book is from a few year's back but is one I just recently heard about again and think I should pick up before our travels next month. Click here to read the review of "Kabul Beauty School" and let me now what you think!

***

So, if you feel like crying tears of joy and then heartbreak, watch this. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some more tissues because MY HEART IS BREAKING.

***

And now, the Video of the Week.

Yesterday, I came back from lunch and this was on my keyboard.

It's nice to be understood on such a deep level.

Turns out, my coworker who sits behind me and, thus, knows of my love for all things Huey Lewis, as well as CB's insistence on being a Mets fan, saw this in the paper and decided to give me the heads up that I now have Saturday plans.

And so obviously I immediately listened to my favorite Huey song (see below) and, for the first time ever (how is this possible??), watched the video. Which has me reconsidering all of my wardrobe choices for the wedding. I need her dress in the boat IMMEDIATELY.

Happy Friday, everyone! See you Monday!

Well played, karma. Well played.

I know, all people who stalk me online, I did not post yesterday. Know why? Because I can’t read a calendar. And also I forgot.

Anyway.

Now I'm starting to re-think all fashion
ensembles. Though I'm pretty sure
matching plaid and awesome bangs never
go out of style. 

So do you guys remember that time that I accidentally offered my seat on the subway to a non-pregnant pregnant-looking person and then I got all sweaty and awkward and pointed at her non-pregnant stomach in a panic explanation as to why I was standing and forcing her to sit? Yeah, that was a low point.

But not as low as being that woman, which I was yesterday and I was all flattered before being confused and then a little bit offended. All in six minutes. Because I’m amazing and also, perhaps, emotionally unstable. And not pregnant.

Also, I hate when I think I’ve made a good fashion choice and then it turns on me and goes rogue and makes me look pregnant from certain angles. (Yes, it’s the dress. No, it’s not the fudge I ate the other night.) 

So I get on the subway last night, and it’s pretty crowded, no seats left. Not, like, shoulder-to-shoulder crowded, but I did the quick scan, saw that there weren’t any seats, and shimmied on over to a place firmly in the middle of the train.

Which is when a polite, tattooed gentleman with a leather bracelet looked up at me, stood up immediately as the train was moving, and motioned for me to sit. I said “Oh no, that’s fine, I can stand.” And he insisted and said “No, please, you sit.”

And then he kind of looked at me as I sat down, likely assessing (hopefully?) that I wasn’t, in fact, pregnant and it’s just that weird stitching near my abdomen that sort of poofs out in a stylish-yet-confusing way! I’m so sorry, Tattooed Bracelet Guy, I probably would've thought I was pregnant, too.

So then I just sat there with my purse covering my stomach because I got self-conscious and also was trying to half-act like maybe I was in early onset pregnancy (is that a thing?) and that’s what pregnant people maybe do? I was panicking!

But then I admitted to myself that I was grateful for the seat because, much against my father’s wishes, I was wearing flats without much arch support and it was quite lovely to give the dogs a break.

So when I got home, I immediately informed CB.

Me: “So I think maybe I shouldn’t wear this dress anymore?
CB: “Why? You look nice.”
Me: “Thanks. But I think a guy mistook me for a pregnant person today on the train. He offered me his seat and sort of insisted, even after I told him I was fine.”
CB: “Maybe he was just being a gentleman?”
Me: “No, that never happens.”
CB: “I do it."
Me: “You’re different. Plus, this dress does kind of poof out a little bit.”
CB: “You’re crazy. Why would you assume he thought you were pregnant and wasn’t just being polite because you were a woman?”
Me: “Because there were women around me standing that he didn’t offer his seat to. And I had plenty of time to check them out while I was sitting and at least two of them were attractive. So if he was just being polite, he’d offer it to them.”
CB: “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
Me: “I had all of this time on my hands just sitting on the train.”

Silence.

Me: “So you think he thought I was pregnant, right?”
CB: “I’m not going to say anything because there’s no possible way for me to win here.”
Me: “Spoken like a true gentleman.”

Happy Thursday, everyone! 

Friday Wrapup...just kidding, it's Monday!

So I figured that you guys wouldn't be checking for blog updates on a holiday, but apparently I was wrong because I got a bunch of emails essentially telling me that I'm slacking. Except thinly veiled as wondering where Friday's wrapup was.

Here it is! Just a few days late. Let's get to it!

***
This week's book is called "The Sea," and is very appropriate since the review was written by my dad AND is about the sea, which has terrifying snakes ready to attack me when I go snorkeling. And since my dad was the one to enlighten me about this aquatic nightmare (and ruin CB's honeymoon in the process), I thought it'd be a good time to highlight it.

Anyway, click here to check it out and peruse for other good summer reads!

***

My sister sent this to me and I'm sure some of you have already seen it. But being a woman myself, watching my niece grow up, and hoping to someday raise boys or girls without these sorts of misconceptions, made it even more relevant.

Also, I run like a girl. And smoke the guys at the gym all the time. Take that, gender stereotypes!

***

Um, a co-worker sent this to me last week and, I must admit, I've tried doing this in my life. Likely within the last 6 months. Mainly out of sheer laziness or because I'd just given myself a manicure, but I never succeeded, hence, hats off to this dude.

Also, this is a fairly accurate interpretation of what I look like when I start dancing. You've been warned.

***

And now, the Video of the Week.

This song popped into my head this morning as I was walking to work and I immediately played it on repeat. In the midst of these next few weeks of final planning and just the overall craziness that is life, it seemed pretty darned appropriate. I love love.

Happy Monday, everyone!

In which I lose my mind before 7am.

This morning, I woke up around 4:30 after dreaming that I was helping Tabatha (from “Tabatha Takes Over” on Bravo. Duh.) re-do a salon, as I do in my spare time, while also living in a dormitory made up of past co-workers who wanted me to go swimming with them. But all I had was one of those old timey bathing suits with the cap and I felt out of place and hip-y and so I declined and hid under the bed. As adults are known to do.

"I promise to only make you watch
one Bravo show per week....unless
there's a Flipping Out marathon on,
which will only count as one show...."

And so then I woke up and felt all weird and oddly awake and so I decided that this was the perfect time to work on my vows. Because CB and I decided we’d be all romantic and write them ourselves. And also because we are complete idiots. I mean, it’ll be super touching and will make me weepy for sure when we actually cry-say them to each other (I’m guessing CB will cry-say them, I will be the picture of stoicism, per usual). But right now, I’m just feeling stress-y that his are going to be way better than mine (because obviously this is a competition) and that’ll make me re-write them on the spot, which will likely result in super awkward vows that talk about promising to, like, not always make him high-five me in public or something. Actually, that’s not bad….

So anyway, I started jotting down some stuff on my phone, which lead me to realize that the woman at the Marriott never wrote me back from my last three emails, which found me composing a note from bed at 5:15 in the morning about a breakfast buffet and shuttle service, which isn’t crazy at all. And then I thought about a friend going through a tough time and texted her to check in, while remembering that we left the clothes in the dryer overnight and uh-oh, my cardigan that I wanted to wear with my dress will be all wrinkly, so I got up and re-dried all the clothes. And then I realized that I’d forgotten to go to the store and buy CB razors and get us paper towels and dishwashing detergent, and so I started making a shopping list on my phone. Which is when I remembered that I needed to follow-up with Bed, Bath, and Beyond because our balcony furniture still isn’t here, and come to think of it, that author I emailed last week never sent me his Table of Contents for a  book due this month, so I better shoot him a note, too.  

And then it was 6:15 and so I got back into bed. But not before turning the air conditioning on in the living room so it’d be nice and cool when we woke up in 30 minutes, and then I remembered that I didn’t respond to a co-worker’s email from the day before about a video, and so I watched the video and responded to that email real quick. And then I got into bed and did that thing where you talk to yourself about how much time you have before you have to get up, and you start doing quick sleep math, and then you lay there trying to count backwards from 7am and you’re like “Oh crap, I’ll just get up.” 

And now I need a nap.  And never did get around to those vows....

Am I alone here or do you guys do this, too? 

Happy Wednesday!