I had a fabulous weekend, full of reunions and favorite friends and Christmas (yes, Christmas!) and family and tacos and gelato. At one point, I was scared of “real life” but really, what’s so scary? If being an adult means taking a vacation day and driving a total of 12 hours to have mexican with The Momma, a girl’s weekend with my favorite past roommates, treating my sister to lunch, having dinner with my dad and stepmom, and then reuniting with an old friend before returning to my four-legged-child and husband-of-mine, I’m so glad I grew up.
John was asleep by the time I pulled into the driveway and when I woke him up, his first words were, “You’re home too early! DON’T LOOK IN THE KITCHEN!” He had hoped to hide the evidence of his reversion-to-his-bachelor-ism (= no clean dishes), but obviously that didn’t work out. It made me a laugh, and then I made him make me a sandwich. Ok, actually he offered. Ok, actually I suggested it and then he agreed.