The love of my whole life was supposed to arrive back home at 11:30 last night.
I spent the whole day walking on sunshine. He’d promised to take me to brunch the following [read: this] morning, a delightful prospect that sent me straight over the edge because if I could choose one meal of the day to run away with forever, it would be brunch. See you later dinner–brunch and I will be sipping mai tai’s on a beach in Bermuda if you need us!
Given that my sweet husband doesn’t particularly care for breakfast, brunch is not an extravagance that we indulge in very often. Kellan would prefer to simply eat Quaker’s Apple Flavored Reduced Fat Instant Oatmeal Packets—a soggy concoction that I am utterly convinced will usher in the fall of human civilization as we know it.
To each his own.
The anticipation of seeing that boy I married AND eating eggs benedict can only be described with this:
I’m sorry, but that is the best thing I’ve seen on the internet since FOREVER. It’s got an addictive quality that I just. can’t. shake.
Alas, brunch was not in the cards for us. I bid hollandaise sauce and happiness a teary adieu when Kellan texted to inform me that he had missed his connection and was stuck in Atlanta for the night. Consolation prize? His boss was sending him to a Holiday Inn IN A LIMOSINE. And if that’s not the height of irony, my last name [on Facebook] isn’t Dickens!
I wilted just a little bit, and made a beeline towards our [fine. MY.] emergency stash of brownie mix. Brownies for one? Can’t stop, won’t stop.
I graced Kellan’s voicemail with an impassioned rendition of “All by myself”, and did this.
Try not to be intimidated by my glamorous life.
Kellan is slated to arrive home early this afternoon, and I may share with him if there are any left. Which, let’s be real, is a total crap shoot.
Hold my calls!