In order to add a level of interest to my monumentally uneventful weekend, I encourage you to imagine me tap dancing with a giraffe to the tune of "Tea for two" while reading this.
See? It's already interesting and I haven't even started yet.
This was an "Operation Fix this Fucking House" weekend that involved three trips to Menards, one trip to Target, one trip to Home Depot, one trip to Lowe's, a pit stop at Trader Joe's, installing my new high-efficiency washing machine (yay!), and ordering of the pizza from Pizza Luce'.
Five light fixtures, a new mattress set, a new bamboo (!) dining room table that I am in deep love with but haven't bought chairs for yet, lumber, cat food and lots of kleenex.
Speaking of kleenex...
The highlight of the weekend was when we were in bed Saturday night.
No- not that, you dirty birds.
We were in bed Saturday night, sleeping, when I woke up stuffed up and sniffling to beat the band. I reached over to my nightstand, grabbed a tissue, and blew.
Unfortunately, I underestimated both the volume and the rumble of my powerful nostril excavation.
In the dark, the second I started this horrific nose symphony, the Mr. jerked awake, started flailing around with a "whaa...?" and promptly fell out of bed, taking the alarm clock with him.
There you go. I blew my nose hard enough to knock my husband out of bed.
He's choosing to blame one of the cats, neither of which were in the vicinity at the time of the incident.