The Business Trip

"I hope you have fun and learn lots on your trip!"

"You'll be fine without me?"

"Well, no. The house is definitely going to descend into anarchy. By the time you get back, it will definitely look like a scene from Wallie, with wreckage and waste everywhere and Casper and I at the center watching old movies and hoarding stuff. But don't worry! I love you!"

With this exchange marking the beginning of Josh's first trip since our wedding, he was a little worried about me. So he left me a couple notes to help me get by. The first was a really sweet love note about how he would miss me:

Love.

The second was slightly more practical:

Excuse me?

What I'm sure was meant as loving advice tipped the scale on to the side of crazy. No one puts baby in a corner and no ones tells me what to do.

So here is the story of my time alone in the apartment as told in pictures, words, and transitions from my spirit animal, Benedict Cumberbatch. It'll be fun:

On the first day of Josh's absence, I slept in way past Josh's usual rising time which allows for breakfast. True story, when left to my own devices, sleep definitely trumps breakfast. After all, I only need to be somewhat awake to drive. After a day of meetings across Texas, I returned back to the apartment and set about the task of making dinner. But wait, No Josh? Looks like I won't be having meat, or a side. Not because I don't like those things, but because on my own, soup only is acceptable. Not a real meal you say? I do what I want! 

Also, while I'm plotting world destruction in my home, I openly refuse to put the roll on the spool. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Honey badger don't care.

On day two, I really became a wild woman. After sleeping in (again), and going to meetings (what is it with politics and meetings?) I got home and decided to have my friend J over for a slumber party. In anticipation of her arrival, I went and shopped for an adventure vest and dinner makings (obviously). As I stood in HEB looking over the array of food stuffs, I realized that the world was my oyster and the pearl calling to me was fresh spicy guacamole: The Food of the Gods.

As I was making Fish Taco Fiesta and waiting for J to arrive, I turned on the TV and realized that the stars had aligned. I quickly text J, "Sweet mother of God, River Dance is on PBS." I think its pretty clear what the rest of the evening was like. Two working women eating fish Tacos and watching the Irish. Out. Of. Control.

The feet!

I don't know what I'm doing anymore!

In conclusion, the apartment may not be a nuclear wasteland, yet, but between now and Josh's return, I guarantee nothing and take no prisoners.