“Is it wishful thinking, or do I smell coffee?”
“It’s wishful thinking. I have no idea where the coffee stuff even IS.”
“Where did you just go?”
“I took the dog out – it’s frickin’ cold.”
“WHAT JUST TOUCHED ME???”
“My hand – I told you it was cold out!”
Ah. The conversations you have when you're still half asleep early on a Sunday morning. It was weird – as if we lived in the same house and had forever. Saturday night, we sat in the hot tub for a little too long and then dragged our too-relaxed selves the 20 feet from hot tub to bed and watched part of SNL before going to sleep. We had a “discussion” about who had custody of the remote – I won, only because he hadn’t figured out how to work the TiVo yet. His concession to the fact that I don’t like to be smothered while I sleep was that he would intertwine his ankle with mine and occasionally, he’d briefly put his arm around me or kiss my forehead while I slept. Sunday morning, I took a shower, he made coffee (after searching every cupboard in the house on a single-minded coffee-finding mission). I got ready for church, he watched ESPN, and since I couldn’t see the t.v., kept me entertained with his running commentary.
It was a nice way to end the weekend. Which was good, because the start to my weekend involved me (in a Toyota Corolla) getting rear ended by a guy in a Ford Expedition on my way home from work Friday. I watched him hit me – it was super, especially the whole “bouncing my head against the back of the seat” thing. Fun times. My mom came over to my house that night and brought me my favorite juice and some muscle relaxers, and she made me soup. Then she took me to get x-rays the next morning while I tried not to cry every time we hit a bump.
Later, in case you hadn’t figured it out, I was staying at the hot tub house again Saturday night and so I moseyed up to Sally and Joe’s, where they fed me steak and corn on the cob and Advil until I couldn’t do much more than go back to the hot tub house and lay down again. That's when Not Boyfriend showed up and assured me that my car doesn’t look that bad and it probably won’t have to be totaled. Which is good for me, since I bought it new in ’03, but he was kind of bummed because that means we aren’t going car shopping. If there’s car shopping to be done, he can go by himself, thanks.
Which brings us back to this morning. I came home from church and took a four hour nap. I’m about to go to bed again, seeing as it’s been almost four hours since I got up. I gotta keep to my schedule, you know. Plus, tomorrow promises to be a day filled with hijinks involving the auto body shop, insurance companies, the chiropractor and who knows what else – so yeah, a girl needs her beauty sleep.
So with that, me and my flexeril bid you adieu…
*This is the place where I put my disclaimer: I wrote this before bed last night, and so, if this post is unbelievably boring and rambly, well, I blame my prescription. That is all.