No, I’m not pregnant. I think my least favorite part about marriage might be that every single time I call a friend with something earth shattering to announce, [and in my world, there are often earth shattering things to announce. I live in extremes and occasionally dabble in the art of exaggeration.], I’m met with an excited screech of, “YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!”
No, but thank you for that, because I’ve been meaning to visit the edge more often. Like most newlyweds, I live in fear of accidentally creating a new life and never sleeping ever again while my Mother laughs maniacally in the background because PAYBACK. The very idea makes me want to throw my coffee pot through a window, but then I remember coffee. And I’m not pregnant so I can drink myself into a caffeinated stupor whenever my heart desires! Cheers to that.
But back to my BIG NEWS! Y’all. Today is the day that our couch is being delivered!
Gone are the days of forced snuggling as we shared our one, black, hand-me-down recliner. [Okay, so those days have been kind of sweet.] We are about to be real adults with real furniture! [Our mattress is still on the floor, but hey, baby steps.]
Life at the Dickens’ just got fancy. Unfortunately, my better half won’t be here to enjoy it, because he left yesterday on a two week business trip.
TWO. WEEKS. He’s even going to be gone for his birthday, which my birthday loving self could just ugly-cry about. And maybe did, just a teensy bit.
The trip popped up rather suddenly, which sent us into a tailspin as we attempted to figure out what I ought to do. Should I brave it out and stay in New York? I could, but there was no guarantee that Kellan wouldn’t return home to find me buried under a pile of resumes, rocking back and forth and muttering to myself in the guest room. Should I click my heels three times and escape home to North Carolina? It was an alluring possibility, but there is a limit to how much you can pop up at home before people start wondering if you ever left at all, and I am rapidly approaching that threshold. In the midst of debating the pros and cons of our limited options, on a whim we decided to look up tickets to Portland.
Portland, where Christy lives. Those of you that have been following this blog since the beginning know that Christy is a BIG DEAL. We were roommates in college with approximately zero things in common, and somehow we hit it off so well that we decided to move to Africa together after we graduated. And if you think there is something that will bond you for life faster than guarding the squatty potty door while being stared down by a thousand curious Muslim men as the OTHER white girl hollers I THINK I JUST PEED MYSELF from inside, you’ve got another thing coming.
I adore her. And I think God knew that I needed some time to sprawl out with my best friend and eat copious amounts of chocolate while moaning about how very strange living with a boy is, because United Airlines was practically giving away tickets to Portland. They were even cheaper than getting to Raleigh, and after approximately four seconds of serious contemplation and debating how much Ramen we would have to eat and plasma we would have to sell, Kellan and I were sold. It’s a small miracle that I even had the presence of mind to call Christy and ask if I could come—not that she would have cared! [Hallelujah for friends like that.]
And so tomorrow morning, I will leave my new couch and journey out west for a week to earthy, crunchy-granola tree-hugging Portland, where I think we can all agree after yesterday that I will fit in just beautifully. In other news, if someone doesn’t get arrested, I will be both surprised and disappointed.