An interesting phenomena has occurred at the B-Love house this past week, and every time I think about it I laugh.

I’ve found the perfect babysitter for Will so that I can play on our new iMac.

It’s called fantasy football.

Yes, I realize this is no new babysitter, and something that occupies an exorbitant amount of time of Will’s life during the fall months. However instead of being annoyed with it I’ve come to embrace it.

Well… for the most part anyway.

The funny thing is that Will thinks he’s found the perfect babysitter for me.

The iMac.

He figures he can stick me in the office to play on our new computer and iChat with my sister and I’ll be content for hours- and he’s pretty much right.

Only we all know who’s really getting one over on the other person, right?

(incase you’re wondering- it’s me).

Um and as a side note, do you guys remember The Babysitters Club books? Good times. I was so in love with those girls and used to want to have a club with my friends just like theirs… Do you think it counts if you and I start our own adult version of The Babysitters Club and use things such as NFL Sunday Ticket, Playstation 3, and pizza to occupy our husband’s time while we go shopping? Is that bad?… Don’t answer that.

The madness begins this weekend. If you’ve known me for a while you know that “the madness” refers to football season. Both pro and college. They both consume Will’s life, and for the next few months I become a football widow. Will galavants around with his mistress (football) from September to January, fully consumed with each point scored, each stat, and every matchup.

And I no longer pretend to “get it.” Because although I fully understand his passion for the sport, I’ve given up on trying to understand the obsession behind it.

I have to admit, though, I’m a little jealous of Will this weekend. He and Ross are going to the OU-BYU game at the new Texas stadium- which I think is going to be pretty amazing.

Don’t feel bad for me though, I’ll be having plenty of fun myself. I’m spending the weekend with my mom and sister and get to see my sister’s apartment, school, and everything else. See? More babysitters. I’ve got Will occupied with the game, he has me occupied with my family.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Oh and don’t worry- this doesn’t mean we’re not getting any quality time in together. We still have season tickets, remember? I’ll be alongside him for plenty o’ games this year you can count on that. Plus who could forget OU-Texas

and OU-Nebraska (!!!),

both out of town trips which I’m very excited about.

It all balances out and we’re both (much) happier for it. I’m not a nagging wife, and (in my mind at least) he’s not some crazed football fan. Who am I kidding? We know that’s a lie. Well- at least this way I’m a tiny bit removed from it.

Hey- at least he never paints his chest.

It’s the small things really.

<3

It never ceases to amaze me how often I watch Will and I following the patterns and behaviorism of our parents.

For instance, the other day we were talking about how it was taking someone freaking for.ev.er to order at the Taco Bueno drive-thru. I’m making all of these jokes and being goofy and then Will randomly spouts out, “Maybe she hasn’t had much experience with drive-thrus,” all serious and with great thought as if he was concerned about her social well-being.

...

I was more just complaining- but okay, if you want to get all serious on me.

“That sounds exactly like your dad!” I said, all creeped out.

Weird.

Or me.

If you irritate or annoy me you better be darn sure I’m going to let you know about it!-

under my breath and while I’m walking away of course.

Ugh! I hate passive aggressive people.

Ding Ding Ding- hello Brittny, welcome to your. life!

Sigh.

Anyway- it’s just funny to me how much we tend to resemble our parents from time to time, and I’m sure it becomes even more surreal after having kids

(Although, after today’s episode of MTV True Life: I’m Pregnant I’m pretty sure Will and I are pretty much on the same page of not having kids for a very long time.).

So I tell you all this because Will and I finally purchased a coffee table last weekend! We had to order it so it wasn’t ready until this weekend. We brought it home last night and decided around 10:30 to begin assembling it.

Oh- and I should probably mention that 10:30 is about our bedtime, so anything after that time can be equated to a drunk person trying to operate heavy machinery or a blind person giving you a perm. We’re simply not at our best after 10:30.

So we Will began working on the coffee table while I stood around offering moral support. The bottom of the table is a rich, dark, bronze-y metal so getting the screws to line up just right and fit the screws was sort of a challenge.

Oh- I guess I should probably show you the table so you know what I’m talking about. How rude of me!

Here’s our new table. Chateau Rustique. I really like it. This picture doesn’t really do it justice. I’ll have to take a picture of the living room for you guys at some point.

Anyway- it’s just so funny to me how long it took Will to put the table together. He is such a perfectionist. One of the screws… nuts?… I have no idea. Screws! Yes- screws.  Anyway, one of those were stripped so Will had a hard time getting it to fit properly into the table. It took for.ev.er. I thought it was fine and perfect but Will, the “handyman” just like his dad, thought it could be better. I thought I was going to go crazy.

So- an hour and a half later my perfect coffee table was finally assembled.

I’m very pleased with our table. I am sort of afraid that it’s too big, but it might just be the fact that we spent a year without a coffee table and now I just need to get used to having one around.

I’ve already started to notice one thing about having this coffee table.

It’s another surface.

Another surface for Will to spread all of his junk atop.

That means more room for stupid crap mail and football magazines and newspapers.

Cringe.

His dad is a big time stacker of crap on surfaces.

Will is the same.

We have this gorgeous desk we bought last year which should really be displayed, only it’s hiding behind piles of Lord knows what.

I blame Will’s dad for this, you know.

My saving grace is that my parents are visiting next week and it will give us a good opportunity to overhaul his piles and organize everything the way it should be.

Let’s just hope it remains that way. Like father, like son I suppose.

Here’s to hoping.

I locked myself out of the house this afternoon.

But wait- there’s more.

There’s always more.

I keep waiting for a time in which my bad fortune no longer follows me, however that time has yet to come and once again reared its ugly head in the form of a locked door today.

Let’s get started.

Okay. So today is Will’s birthday. Yay for Will’s birthday!

I was determined to make today great.

Which was my first mistake.

I should know by now that if I’m out to make a day great something is lurking around the corner to squash my plans.

Will I ever learn?

Work was really busy all morning and I really needed to work through lunch, however I thought it might be a good idea to run home today, check on the doggies, and grab a quick lunch- which is what I did.

As I finished my lunch I noticed it was raining pouring outside. I thought I better get an umbrella to take with me to avoid the downpour, only I realized my umbrella was in my car- and Will had my car today.

Aha! I remembered I had a random umbrella out in the garage. So- barefoot and all I ran out to the garage (closing the door behind me, of course) and grabbed the umbrella. As I went to enter the house it happened.

The door wouldn’t open.

I then began to feel a little panicky, sick to my stomach and started experincing that yucky upper lip sweat.

I pryed and jolted and yelled (you know- because yelling always unlocks bolted doors) but nothing happened.

I then got the genius idea to use a screwdriver to leverage the door between the frame.

Um, the terrible dig marks in the door frame clearly yell, “That wasn’t a good idea you freaking moron!!!”

Yeah- so don’t do that.

So then I began to get totally irrational and ridiculous. Like a mad woman. “I know, I’ll run and thrust my body against the door to force it open!”

Okay- so I didn’t really do that, but trust me- I was quite irrational nonetheless.

So… what to do, what to do…

I had a pair of nasty old tennis shoes and a pair of tacky black cheap-o flip flops.

Choices, choices.

I lifted the garage, opened my umbrella and started knocking on doors up and down my street.

In the rain.

The pouring rain.

In a pretty white dress.

A pretty white dress.

In tacky black cheap-o flip flops (I figured that went better with my dress… in that trashy sort or, “I like to dress up but have no regard for what I wear on my feet” sort of way).

No one answered.

Why would they? They were al at work- where I needed to be.

Up and down the street. Finally! Someone answered. This woman across the street had just had a baby and was home- thank God for your baby woman! It was if God allowed you to have your kid so you would be home at this exact.moment.in.time.

Okay- so maybe not, but it did feel a little like a divine moment after trudging up and down my neighborhood in the pouring rain, pretty white dress, and tacky flip flops.

Anyway- she was gracious enough to let me in and use the phone. I called Will- who was not in town today (of course!). He told me to call a locksmith and work it out that way.

Oh- and he was annoyed that I managed to lock myself out.

Happy birthday honey!

Anyway, the lady told me that she could just go ahead and take me back to work so that I wouldn’t have to wait for a locksmith and pay for him to come out. I thought it was so nice of her to offer. I have very nice neighbors. I graciously accepted, took my tacky flip flops, got in her car and went back to work.

As we rode back I realized that there were a few bad things I had failed to think through when deciding not to call the locksmith.

1. My purse was in the truck, totally exposed for all the world to see and steal.

Genius Brittny.

Will tells me time after time, “Brittny- bring your purse inside and don’t leave it in the car!” And for once in my life he was so very right (actually, he’s always right about this one...). My freaking locked house was beyond safe at this point. I could most certainly confirm all doors were locked! Sigh…

Then there were the doggies.

The doggies stay in a kennel all day long because you may remember they’re quite naughty and cannot be trusted to roam around the house all alone.

Just recall this post or this one or this one.

Good times.

Anyway- they’re bad doggies and cannot be trusted.

And I had left them in the house.

All alone.

Home alone doggies.

To roam free.

And chew my wood.

And the shoes I was wearing as of 11:30 this morning and should have been wearing as I was riding to work.

I could just imagine what was happening to my house.

What a mistake to leave them out!

Sigh…

Will loved finding that out.

Oh- and I didn’t tell him. I just let him come home and be surprised.

Surprise! Happy birthday!

Anyway… it’s been quite a day.

Will picked me up from work and I felt back because I had to have him drive me to get his cake oh- and I had intended to get his birthday card on the way home too. Opps.

So- there you have it.

There’s probably a ton more I’m leaving our and need to share but Will wants me to watch “Dating in the Dark” tonight because this guy on his favorite sports talk radio was talking about how funny it was.

I think it’s weird.

But hey- it’s his birthday, and I did leave our kids home alone today.

Oh- and locked myself out.

Let’s not forget that one.

Genius. 

There are two things in life you can be certain of:

Death

and

Taxes.

I think right about -> ______ there is where I’m supposed to insert some sort of pithy comment or remark about this subject, but sadly I have nothing pithy so share today.

More like lamenting.

I won’t get into all the terrible details but let’s just say Will and I got this huge random surprise in the mail this past weekend.

Um- and since we’re both alive you can probably guess it’s not the death part I speak of.

Although… it sort of felt like that. I began to feel all claustrophobic and itchy and sweaty as if I were trapped in some cheap velvety low quality wood coffin.

Good times.

Anyway there was this big misunderstanding (Um that’s my cute and polite explanation of what happened. If we were discussing this issue with you in person I would definitely not say “big misunderstanding.” I would instead say something that would probably make you blush a little.) and much to our surprise we owe taxes we thought we had already paid.

Like I said- a “big effing misunderstanding.”

Good times.

Oh- and it’s Monday.

Oh- and it’s freaking hot.

Oh- and it’s supposed to storm tonight.

Wow! This day just gets better and better. Okay- I realize I can’t blame all my troubles on Monday, but it just feels so darn good!

Don’t you guys sometimes seriously miss the days of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and naps on the blue cushy kindergarten mats? It’s days like today where I do.

Actually, it’s days like today where I think, “Seriously. What in the HELL am I doing living here!?! Why am I here!? I could be back in Kuwait away from all this stupid ‘real life’ trouble and crap.”

I’d be lying if I haven’t been thinking that a.lot. lately. I guess it’s normal. I mean we seriously found this amazing “loophole.” Where the real world worries are distant memories. I realize that what we had wasn’t exactly normal and that what happened to us this weekend happens to people all the time, but it’s days like today, when Uncle Sam has kicked me square in the stomach when I was already down- and wearing my Sunday best- that I really wish we never even moved back.

I realize we moved back probably at the worst time ever- which is something I often have to remind myself- and a lot of people are experiencing the same things we are. I also truly believe everything worked out so perfectly to move back and was definitely of God. I’m still not sure of how it fits into “the master plan,” but I know I had a peace about coming back.

I also know I love my job and where we live. I’m very blessed. However, I’m not going to lie- days like today seriously make me miss life in Kuwait.

Oh- and days when I have a messy house. So you know… like Monday thru Sunday (ha ha).

Sorry to vent. It’s just been a seriously lousy day and has me bummed. “Big misunderstandings” suck. I know we’re not the first to experience them and we’ll certainly not be the last. I know everything will work out and we’ll be okay, but I just felt the need to blow off some major steam.

You know- because I know how much you love hearing about other people’s problems when you have a slew of your own!

More typical Brittny posting to come soon. I’m traveling this week and you may remember what happened last time I travelled. Who knows what’s bound to happen!

More to come.

<3

There are times in my life where I really believe things happen to me simply so I will get off my duff and post about them. It’s as if the “blogging gods” look up from their golden computers and say,

“Hey! That ‘B-Love’ girl hasn’t posted in a while. What’s her problem!? Writers block? I guess she needs us to help our out. We’ll give her something to write about and make her so afraid of it happening again that she’ll continue to post on a regular basis to avoid our wrath. Muahahahaha” <- a giant strike of lightening flashes behind them and they all rub their hands together all evil-like…

And then the lightening hits their servers and they all cry and put their nerdy glasses and pocket protectors back on and try to remedy the problem.

Oh- but not before cursing me, of course.

So- yesterday that’s exactly what happened. It has been a while since I’ve posted- which of course translates into some sort of calamity. I should have known some sort of awful moment was lurking around the corner for me! I can’t go a week or more without posting and not have something happen to share.

We went to visit Will’s family for father’s day yesterday. We decided to have an early lunch, so we hopped in the car and headed to the restaurant. Pat and I sat in the backseat, while Will and his dad sat up front. As we pulled into the restaurant Will’s dad thought it would be nice to get the car door for me. He opened the door- and then it happened.

However, before we discuss “it,” I should explain something so the incident is clearer. I’m pretty low maintenance on the weekends. I try to do as little as possible to get myself ready. I’ve also become a big cotton skirt and dress wearer during the summer. They’re so comfortable and breathable and easy to throw on and look decent in… they’re amazing. Oh- and they’re even better when you’re feeling gigantic because they hide your fat and somehow make you feel a little better about yourself.

So- that being said, I was wearing a flowy black cotton skirt.

As Will’s dad opened the door a giant wind, what I have now begun to call, The Great Wind came upon us all. I swear it was so windy I saw a Chihuahua fly right past me. The wind angrily howled all around us- and before I knew it, the wind had somehow crawled underneath my skirt and raised it all the way up against my back- thereby exposing my entire lower body- black underwear and slightly hail dented legs for the whole world to see-

Oh and right (and I mean RIGHT) in front of my father in law!

Yes- go ahead and cringe. You can even scream if you want to, I know I wanted to.

Oh- and to make matters way, way worse- not only has Will’s dad seen downstairs- he’s also seen upstairs too. You may recall this post in which he saw me in my leopard print bra?

Yeah- I pretty much wanted to bawl my eyes out of embarrassment, and gouge his mind’s eye out of its socket.

I’m sure you understand.

So I grabbed my skirt and ran straight to the bathroom and tried to gain my composure. I was so so so mortified!

Mortified.

So what do I do? I run and tell someone what happened, you know, because that’s the totally normal thing to do- have something awful happen to you that you want to forget but run and text someone the whole story. Brilliant.

So, I texted P.

I kept thinking to myself, “Maybe he didn’t see?” Maybe I blinded him with my ghastly white legs so he wasn’t able to see a thing! I knew I hadn’t been tanning for a reason. I just kept thinking of ways that maybe I was overreacting and it wasn’t that bad.

But it was that bad.

I realized I couldn’t stay in the bathroom the rest of the day and that eventually I would have to come out and expose myself to the world. (<- ha ha, I’m pretty sure I had done enough exposing for one day. What I mean to say is that I needed to get out of the bathroom already and try to enjoy a meal with my in-laws.<- ha ha, that's funny. Enjoy a meal with my in-lawsIsn’t that sort of like an oxymoron?)

So- I came out of the bathroom and sat down at our booth. I always sit across from Pat when we eat- always. Always but for some reason yesterday of all days Pat took the inside and Will’s dad took the outside. Will was already comfortably sitting in his spot so I couldn’t really make a big deal about the whole seating arrangements. So- instead I gracefully sat down, directly in front of my FIL, and placed the menu right in front of my face.

Will’s dad made jokes like normal (um- NOT about what had happened, of course) and basically acted like nothing had happened which sort of made me feel better. I really wanted to believe he hadn’t seen my giant derriere flapping in the wind, so him just acting normal helped me to pretend that he didn’t.

Even though let’s face it- he so did.

Let’s just say yesterday’s lunch felt like the longest day of my life.

And let’s also say that a valuable lesson had been learned today-

No, it’s not that you should never wear skirts.

It’s not that you shouldn’t let your father-in-law open the door for you either.

It’s not even that you should have Casper white legs.

It’s that the wind is one sick, perverted, ancient old man that seriously needs to be contained.

1. The weekend wasn’t as bad as anticipated.

2. Pictures are posted and I think they turned out pretty good. I think Will needs to wear a tux everyday.

3. I never became more aware of the fact that Will and I truly and seriously treat our dogs like real life children more than I did this weekend. I listened to all our family members with kids and the little common trigger phrases they said and thought to myself, “Wow… I say that too. To my dogs. I think Will and I need help.”

4. I actually thought about kids this weekend (as in maybe having them one day down the road) and sort of freaked out but sort of did not. Long story short- I saw a lot of couples this weekend with small kids that seemed miserable (not with their children, but with their spouse) and it freaked me out. At the same time I thought about how I also know a lot of people that seem even happier with their spouse. I guess some of that could have been because of the circumstance (um I’m pretty sure traveling and having to stay up late for a family dinner can make EVERYONE grumpy). What do you think?

5. I honestly wore more makeup than the bride this weekend and felt a little ridiculous. She’s very simple and I so should have remembered that. Eh- I don’t get to dress up much so I figured I might as well do it right.

6. The AC in our truck went out. Thankfully it went out on the way home and not on the way there. I’m certain Will and I would have ended up in marital counseling had it gone out before. Have I mentioned I turn into a raging psychopath when I get hot? Probably not.

7. I felt really old Sunday when I went to bed at around 8:30.

8. I like Will’s family- despite what I say on my website sometimes. I’m pretty lucky to have his family in my life. I could definitely have worse- and realized that this weekend.

9. I didn’t even get to dance with Will at the reception. :( Do you know the last time we danced was back in 2002 when we met in ballroom dancing class!? I thought I was getting a dancer, but um- notsomuch. The 3 or 4 times they had a slow song Will was helping to get the bride’s overnight bag into Dr. Vet’s car, or tagging the car, or something else. Will and I were going to dance to the last slow song they played, but Dr. Vet and Mrs. Dr. Vet snatched us up and we danced with them instead. Oh well. Hopefully someone else will get married soon?

10. I’m beyond behind on reading and commenting on your blogs. Therefore I’m turning off comments today until I catch up. Sorry I’m a sucky blog friend but I promise to catch up soon. 

When P and I were in Olympia last year we saw something very interesting leading up to the stadium.

Cheater’s Row.

Cheaters Row was a whole entire line of statues of Olympians which- as you guessed it- were found to be cheating. They created a statue of these cheaters and on it displayed the person’s name, family’s name, and where they were from.

Everyone that was on their way to the stadium passed by these status and saw the shame these people brought to their towns.

What a disgrace for the cheater. Even today, hundreds of years later, remnants of Cheaters Row remain as a testament of those before us.

Cheater’s Row wasn’t placed outside of the stadium “just because it seemed like a good place to put these statues.” They were there on purpose. As a reminder. As a way to humiliate those who cheated. As a way for their name to be remembered- forever set in stone, both literal and figurative.

I know- YAWN. I’m killing you guys, right?

Sorry. I’ve just been thinking about Cheater’s Row a lot the last couple of days. It was not that long ago in which having your name tarnished was disgraceful and painful. It wasn’t long ago in which a person’s name meant something. When deals were made on handshakes, and when a honorable man said something and followed through.

Perhaps I’m romancing the days of old, but it just seems as though we don’t make people like we used to.

Nowadays we ("we" being used collectively as a societal whole) let TV teach our kids about God and right and wrong, school teach them about sex and politics, and their older friends about love, relationships, and doing the right (or wrong) thing.

What happened to our responsibility in society to um- do it ourselves as parents?

Yes, I realize I don’t have kids- but it doesn’t matter. I see a trend that is quite alarming and I feel it’s only going to get worse.

We raise kids to expect things- to feel as though they are owed everything and don’t have to work for things. We don’t punish criminals, which teaches our kids that really? there aren’t things such as consequences, and even if there are there’s always a loophole.

I know- you guys are totally rolling your eyes now and want to ship your kids off to my house so I can really try this parenting thing out since I sound so self righteous.

I know- I’m talking all crazy. The truth is that I’m just blowing off some steam.

Okay-

a LOT of steam.

Long story short Will and I were innocently driving home Friday night, minding our own business, and some moronic kids nailed a rock right into our truck. No reason. No justification. “They’re just kids.”

Ha- kids old enough to know better.

It’s a whole long story, but basically the father came off as this nice guy- and a “man of his word” and was going to take care of the problem, only he has conveniently been unreachable since the incident happened. We finally got a hold of him today and “it wasn’t my kid- it’s not my problem.”

Like I said- it’s a long story.

The jist of the story is- what are you teaching your kids? I’m thinking that you’re teaching them it’s okay to violate someone’s property and not have to pay any consequences. 

We did absolutely nothing wrong. We were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, and somehow the kid comes out as totally innocent and the father- a grown man-refuses to take responsibility for what happened on his property. In fact, he even changed his story and said that it wasn’t a rock- it was a hackey sack. Um, the dent and chipped paint on our truck suggests otherwise. Where is the accountability?

What happened to manning up? It’s sounds more like Will and I have a parent problem on our hands instead of a kid problem.

Can we please start making people take moron tests before we allow them to breed?

Please?

Sorry to vent. I just needed to unload somewhere- and this seems to be the lucky venue. I don’t feel like getting into the details of the story- I just needed to run my mouth about ridiculous things I have no business sharing.

I know you guys love that too (ha).

I guess I just come from a different school of thought than this guy. I probably would have fit in with society just fine a hundred years ago, and I’m sure you would too.

Only- could we please make sure we brought lip gloss, cheesecake, and iPods with us? That’s not too much to ask, right?

Monday.

I must admit, I’m in the majority of the public population which let out a groan anytime that word is uttered. If you guys are the small majority which have a pep in your step today? Well- please leave me alone until I can suck down some coffee and prepare for your cheeriness.

We had storms last night which seem to be a continual reminder of, “What in the world am I doing back here!?! I’m CRAZY.”

That’s sort of how the night goes- even when it rains here.

Living in Oklahoma is a little irritating 6 months out of the year. Anytime there’s a rain cloud, a raindrop, or a bit of a cool breeze on a hot day- you tend to freak out a bit.

You begin looking around to see if a wall cloud is forming, if your “safe place” is ready, and checking on your portable radio and flash lights.

What am I doing here!?!

The news channels don’t make you feel any better.

“Well folks- it’s awful outside. In fact- I’m pretty sure the sky is falling,” they say.

That doesn’t help someone like me- who freaks out at any sign of a storm.

Oh- and Will LOVES when it’s bad out because he has to deal with me freaking out and being absolutely unreasonable.

“We need to pull the mattress off the spare bed and be ready to hide under it!”

Yeah- I pretty much drive him insane.

I become like a wilty flower that needs a super hero to rescue her. Poor guy.

It’s like this whole “thing” with us. I truly drive him crazy.

I will say- although Kuwait was miserably hot- there was no weather.

I miss no weather.

So I’m enduring my first full spring back in America in quite a few years and have decided I hate it.

I love rain.

But you can’t simply “love rain” in Oklahoma because there’s no such thing as rain. It’s wrapped around a wall cloud or swirling winds.

Ugh.

So- although I’m not a big Monday fan. I love Mondays way more than last night’s storms- so I guess you could say Mondays don’t seem so bad?

Sure- we’ll go with that.

Now leave me alone. I need a few more cups first. 

I really want to sit down and tell you guys about the slave driver of a gym Nazi I worked out with Sunday.

She kicked my…

well…

you know.

“How in the HELL did I get this GIANT purple and red bruise on my inner thigh!?”

I have no clue.

Oh- that’s right-

It was probably when she stepped on my leg and told me I sucked and “You CAN do 40 more lunges or I’ll cut you!”

Yeah…

I think it was that.

Anyway- I want to tell you about the Gym Nazi but I can’t.

Apparently marriage is about sharing everything.

The last Little Debbie Nutty Bar,

the living room TV,

the last Little Debbie Nutty Bar (crap. I already said that one...).

Well apparently now I also have to share our computer from 9-10 pm.

That’s right- Willy Boy is cutting into my blogging time. My gym Nazi storytelling time. My unwinding time.

Long story short- we’re having DVR issues (gasp!) so we can’t tape and instead have to watch a show on fox.com tonight “that simply can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Doesn’t he understand my need to blog?

A GIANT PURPLEY-RED BRUISE.

ON MY INNER THIGH.

The people need to know!

THIS GIRL IS A GLUTTON FOR PUNISHMENT.

Sigh… he just doesn’t get it.

So- I’m off to share now- although I really don’t recall this computer crap being anywhere in our vows.

Here’s to healing- and a mediocre, not so great workout tomorrow.

<3

“I should probably get a hepatitis shot,” I thought to myself as I carelessly used an unlined public toilet for the fourth time yesterday.

I’m generally more careful, however it had been a long day. A really long day. I woke at 3:30 morning in order to shower, get dressed (complete with high heels), compile and condense my crap (unsuccessfully) and leave the house by 4:45.

I had checked in, gotten through security, and found my gate all before 5:30. I was in the air by 6:00.

I consider that a fairly busy morning. And early. A really early morning too. But who cared- it was a day trip. No big deal.

We had a fairly slow paced morning with a jam packed afternoon. We arrived, enjoyed a cup of coffee to awaken our tired brains, and prepared for the day ahead.

The coffee worked- but only for so long.

At least it was just a day trip.

By the time my meeting started (at 2:00 that afternoon), I was sleepy. Not only that- but seriously, what was I thinking with wearing these high heels!? Thank God it was just a day trip- and almost over.

The meeting went well and was valuable- but by the time it was over I was ready to drive like Mark Martin all the way to the airport to be home to see Will-

And sleep-

And most of all, get out of these freaking heels.

We arrived at the airport, got through security- you know the normal stuff.

We found our gate and also found a mob crowded around the little check-in counter.

“Hmm- this doesn’t look normal…” I thought to myself.

Perhaps I had finally tempted fate long enough had actually contracted some strange hallucinatory disease from all my careless bathroom use during the day- and this was all just a mirage.

It wasn’t.

Damn.

You know- because the reality of a mob is so much worse than a communicable disease.

It appeared storms in Dallas had caused several delays and even cancelations. As we looked on the screen we noticed our flight to Dallas had been delayed two hours. Instead of our lovely 6:30 we were now pushed back past 8:30.

At this point you try to settle in and began the lion-like hunt for an available outlet for your laptop.

Think National Geographic channel- cheetahs chasing the little gazelles.

Thankfully this cheetah was quick enough to secure an outlet to check much needed email. Hunger inevitably kicked in, and I gave up my post to eat. When I had finished, my flight had been delayed almost another hour. With each delay a call was made to Will- who was going to pick me up and take me home.

Home to my own bed.

And no high heels.

Did I mention I had been in them for 15 hours in heels at that point?

Heels and an extra huge purse.

Heels and an extra huge purse and an extra huge laptop bag.

After all- IT WAS JUST A FREAKING DAY TRIP.

Finally- 9:15. Everything looked good. Our flight from Dallas to Oklahoma was going to be tight, but we had about 15 minutes to get off and run to our gate before the plane left. We felt confident we could do it- with my heels in my hand, of course.

We arrived in Dallas right on time- 15 minutes to spare.

Thankfully.

“Okay- so it’s no big deal. I’m only a few hours behind schedule. Willy will be waiting for me at 11:30 and we’ll go home and I’ll sleep in an extra hour- rest my feet- and go to work. This will be fine.”

Only we sat on the plane. And sat. And sat a little longer.

Just when I got to the point in which my left eye began to twitch uncontrollably, the captain informed us there was no gate ready for us and we were going to have to wait a little while.

…

So I sent a text to my colleague who had made the earlier Dallas flight and was already in the airport waiting for the Oklahoma flight. I wanted to see if she thought we would be able to make it, or if it was simply too late.

“You’ll make it,” she said.

Thankfully.

I figured with all the delays it would be okay.

“Just a little longer, Britt, and you’ll be out of your heels and in bed, fighting with the dogs for space.”

We finally got to the gate- I began getting into sprint mode. We got to the gate and waited. And waited. And waited.

My eye began to twitch again.

The captain informed us that although we were at our gate we had to wait on an attendant to open the doors-

Or some crap like that.

I didn’t care. It meant that the chances of my cramped calves getting out of these heels and into my own bed were getting slimmer each second that ticked away on that plane.

It meant I was going to spend the night either driving all the way home to Oklahoma or in some skuzzy hotel.

It meant this was no longer just a day trip.

I could only hope something was delaying the plane to Oklahoma so that we could make it in time.

But that would be normal and predictable- and why in the world would I want that, right?

So of course I missed my flight.

By the time we got off the plane we were met by another mob.

Another mob that had missed their flights too.

And must have been wearing heels for 15 hours too, because they were super grumpy.

I mean, sure I was tired, my back was seriously aching from all the stupid weight I had towed with me. My calves? Pretty much numb at that point. My feet were permanently shaped in triangles to mold to my stupid pointy heels.

Yet somehow I wasn’t in an awful mood.

Okay- I was.

I think I said “What the hell” or something like that- but I didn’t get too mad. I don’t think I even cussed- which I consider a success in this circumstance.

I know-I’m such a classy lady.

So we stood in line with the mob to see what to do next. The airline put us up in a hotel because of the delay.

So much for my little easy day trip.

“At least we get another day of per diem!” my colleague said enthusiastically.

“Really? ’At least we get another day of per diem!’” I said mockingly to myself. “HOW LOVELY! Because I’m SO excited about $30 when I’m going to need $30,000 to buy prosthetic calves after wearing these heels all day!”

Men seriously have no concept of what it’s like being a woman.

Seriously.

Anyway, we loaded up and began the trip to our hotel.

The whole way there I began to watch myself begin to panic internally.

It finally hit me.

I’m.spending.the.night.

In these clothes I’ve worn since like 4:00 this morning.

I had no toothbrush.

No mascara.

Gasp! No deodorant!

And let’s face it- I’m a sweater.

Please- please just swallow me into the ground now.

There’s something interesting that seems to happen to you once you realize that your simple little day trip is going to turn into an overnight stay. A stay in which you’ve carelessly not planned for.

(um-sidebar! Okay so I’ve flown a million times and have never ever experienced any issues. So why, WHY would a simple day trip cause me problems, I thought to myself, right!?)

Your whole mind begins to turn to mush.

Your frame of reference becomes totally distorted and you have no good solid compass between what’s socially acceptable and entirely ridiculous.

“Okay- so do I take off my make up, or leave it on?

What am I going to do about not having deodorant? This is going to be bad on so many levels.

Do I stay in my undies? Try to wash them? Go commando?

Do I saturate my shirt in perfume to freshen it up?”

Suddenly these really easy everyday hygiene decisions become little crises.

What do I do!? What is the proper etiquette? This shouldn’t be that hard. Why is this so hard!?

The truth is that it’s hard because you’re only planning for a day trip!

Why wasn’t I prepared? Sigh…

So we got to the hotel late. I have no idea when, but I know it was after 11:00 and I could barely walk. I got my room key, tried to do a little work- which turned out to be fruitless because I was totally spent-and went to bed.

I got up at 5:30 this morning, got fully dressed in my work attire (except for the shoes. I went barefoot and hoped for the best) and went down to the lobby to try to pillage for at the very least toothpaste.

Turns out a lot of idiots are like me and don’t plan ahead. I scored toothpaste, a toothbrush, and- and- deodorant!

Men’s deodorant.

Men’s deodorant without antiperspirant.

But hey- who cares- it’s better than nothing, right?

I opted to shower and wash my face. I took my make up off but I didn’t remove my mascara.

I got ready.

I looked like death.

I had lipstick.

I remember a friend saying that all you really needed on an extremely ugly and off day was lipstick. That would make it all better.

She is full of crap.

I had a greasy complimentary breakfast and was finally, finally on my way home.

I arrived home this morning at about 10:30. I went home, freshened up a little, changed clothes, PUT ON FLATS, and went to work.

I was swamped, but hey- the problems I faced at work today seemed like a piece of cake compared to the whole dilemma of proper 2nd day undie etiquette.

It feels incredible to be at home. I’m so ready to slip into my own sheets tonight.

I no longer believe in day trips, will always be prepared, and am officially retired from business travel. At least for a while anyway.

<3