Oh man. I can’t even begin to sum up the past few days. It’s been crazy. Just crazy.
We went up to my alma mater for a birthday party and it was one of the longer nights of my life. I elected to have us stay in a quaint little bed and breakfast within walking distance of downtown Appleton, and you know what the worst place to be stupidly drunk at 2:30am is? A quaint bed and breakfast, that’s where. We stumbled in so late, and I do believe I was shoeless. I sincerely hope that we did not disturb the newly weds who were spending their first married night in the room adjacent to us. I have a sneaking suspicion that they would not understand our drunken predicament seeing as they seemed the non-drinking type. Cursed teetotalers.
Adding insult to injury was the emergency stop at a gas station somewhere on the Wisconsin/Illinois border in order for me to puke my guts out on the drive home. I’m so sorry to all patrons of that particular gas station/family diner. I really hope your kids learned an important lesson from my vulgar display of stupidity: NEVER BINGE DRINK OVER THE AGE OF 20 (actually, just don’t binge drink I suppose).
I blame it on Appleton. There is something in the air of that town that makes people drunk. I never get drunk like that unless I’m at a wedding, because I cannot get over the privilege of an open bar and feel like I owe it to the hosts to take full advantage of their generosity. Maybe that’s why my wedding invitation receipts have declined dramatically this year? Nah.
It was stupid and it took fully 2-days to get over that night and thusly I accomplished nothing productive Saturday or Sunday. In fact that only thing I did accomplish was to experience extreme insomnia Saturday night that was virtually intractable. I was worried I would never sleep again. Both Brett and I experienced this phenomenon and we both finally gave up and had sex and that seemed to do the trick. You know you’re in a long term relationship when sex is sometimes a tool for sleep as opposed to a purely pleasure seeking device.
Luckily, it worked, and we finally got to sleep around 5am.
Monday was spent packing, lifting, grunting, sweating and rigging couches to dangle off of second floor balconies until they rested gently on the ground several feet below. My man, he’s some kind of genius. Honestly, without him, the future occupant of that apartment would have a free couch because there was no way that puppy was going out the door. Also, he lowered that couch to the ground all by himself. We have pictures to prove it (note that I am doing nothing but taking pictures, which is really evidence of my uselessness in this moving/home owning thing):
We went up to my alma mater for a birthday party and it was one of the longer nights of my life. I elected to have us stay in a quaint little bed and breakfast within walking distance of downtown Appleton, and you know what the worst place to be stupidly drunk at 2:30am is? A quaint bed and breakfast, that’s where. We stumbled in so late, and I do believe I was shoeless. I sincerely hope that we did not disturb the newly weds who were spending their first married night in the room adjacent to us. I have a sneaking suspicion that they would not understand our drunken predicament seeing as they seemed the non-drinking type. Cursed teetotalers.
Adding insult to injury was the emergency stop at a gas station somewhere on the Wisconsin/Illinois border in order for me to puke my guts out on the drive home. I’m so sorry to all patrons of that particular gas station/family diner. I really hope your kids learned an important lesson from my vulgar display of stupidity: NEVER BINGE DRINK OVER THE AGE OF 20 (actually, just don’t binge drink I suppose).
I blame it on Appleton. There is something in the air of that town that makes people drunk. I never get drunk like that unless I’m at a wedding, because I cannot get over the privilege of an open bar and feel like I owe it to the hosts to take full advantage of their generosity. Maybe that’s why my wedding invitation receipts have declined dramatically this year? Nah.
It was stupid and it took fully 2-days to get over that night and thusly I accomplished nothing productive Saturday or Sunday. In fact that only thing I did accomplish was to experience extreme insomnia Saturday night that was virtually intractable. I was worried I would never sleep again. Both Brett and I experienced this phenomenon and we both finally gave up and had sex and that seemed to do the trick. You know you’re in a long term relationship when sex is sometimes a tool for sleep as opposed to a purely pleasure seeking device.
Luckily, it worked, and we finally got to sleep around 5am.
Monday was spent packing, lifting, grunting, sweating and rigging couches to dangle off of second floor balconies until they rested gently on the ground several feet below. My man, he’s some kind of genius. Honestly, without him, the future occupant of that apartment would have a free couch because there was no way that puppy was going out the door. Also, he lowered that couch to the ground all by himself. We have pictures to prove it (note that I am doing nothing but taking pictures, which is really evidence of my uselessness in this moving/home owning thing):
