This weekend was a fun one for Patrick and me. I suppose “fun” isn’t really the best way to describe it. In fact, not even close. “Fun” would be an optimistic lie. It’s more like the feeling you get when you’re up all night finishing a geometry project the night before it’s due and you’re bonding with your mom over a giant, three-dimensional dodecahedron. And after hearing stories about things like when she got that scar near her eyebrow (she swore at her mom, so her dad kicked her around the room until she hit her face on an end table) and the after math of the lies they had to tell the doctor who stitched up her face (she bashed it on the faucet while washing her hair in the sink) it was an interesting getting-to-know-you-after-twelve-years exercise. Oh, and I know what you’re thinking and I’m shocked too – who washes her hair in the SINK? Not even a believable lie, dudes. Oh, you were talking about the abuse. Yeah, I guess that’s shocking too. Anyway, as the clock keeps ticking and I realize there’s no way I’m are going to get enough sleep to function at school tomorrow and the conversation has since become quiet, both of us covered in glue and swimming in multi-colored card-stock triangles, she says, “I got a D once.” And I ask, “Really? In what?” And she says, “Geometry.” And we both laughed through the pain. I suppose I could have saved you some time just now and simply described it as the kind of fun that comes with an asterisk. And then below in the footnote, the corresponding asterisk says, “not fun.”

So Patrick and I headed to Ikea this weekend – also known as the GREATEST PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE AND ALSO IN SWEDEN!! – where we went to replace our love seat. Not only did we find an ottoman we loved and can’t afford but bought anyway, we also found some shelves and rugs and storage containers and some cutting boards and a mug and a book that we can’t afford but bought anyway. So, all in all, a typical trip to Ikea for us. Who needs money anyway? We’re vegetarians – if we run out of money we’ll just graze.

We didn’t get to Ikea until after 1) I ran a 5K and almost puked because of the pain of having my wounded foot crammed into a shoe and also because I always puke after 5Ks and 2) an appointment with Dr. Laserface following up about that time my blistered skin was violently and painfully ripped from my body. So, you know, great way to start the day.

Then came the hard part. Well, actually, the hard part was swiping the credit card… but after THAT came a close second.

Here’s the task… get all of this:

Into this:

You might or might not know this about me, but I’m somewhat of a packing magician. I moved to Orlando with ALL of my belongings (see: packrat) in one tiny U-Haul trailer small enough to be towed by my Jetta. I moved to and from college every year with ONLY my Jetta. And I have an 80-lb dog that took up my entire back seat (plus she weighed like a hundred pounds back then, so, yeah). And I can’t leave out the time I fled to Mexico and managed to cram ALL those dead bodies into the trunk with my suitcas— wait…. I’ve said too much.

Anyway. So first we tried this:

And failed.

So then we tried this:

And this:

And it worked:

Ta da!

Then a quick stop at DSW  to get some shoes I can’t afford but bought anyway and then to Bed Bath & Beyond because we’re still newlyweds, after all, and that’s where newlyweds spend their weekends.

And if running errands, hauling furniture and spending money we shouldn’t be spending doesn’t sound like a good time, we got to go home and clean. So yeah, back to that kind of fun that comes with an asterisk.

Patrick handed out the assignments: it was my duty to finish all of the filing of the miscellaneous paperwork that had piled up and then organize the swirling vortex of all things unholy guest room closet. He went to work right away applying grout and caulk and whatever else a person does to a wall of bathroom tiles. I’m not exactly sure because while he was talking about this, my dial switched from “not interested” to “are you still talking because I thought this conversation ended 20 minutes ago and how can a person say so many things about bathroom tiles?”

And while I could go on and on about this (as Patrick did, I assure you) I don’t want to waste your time telling you all of the riveting details. But it’s likely that Patrick will retire from golf and change his profession because, seriously, look at how all of the mold is gone and the new grout is in place and never has caulk been laid in such even lines across the rim of a shower and seriously he’s still talking about it.

“I’m going to stay up all night to finish this,” he said sometime Saturday. I honestly don’t know what time he made that statement because this day seemed to go on forever and seriously, time stands still when I’m all, “Let’s watch Friends!” and he’s all, “Come here! Look! I’ve finished step one! I’ve finished step one! Next I’ll do step two. And then step three. And then step four. And then step five. And then step six…” And this goes on for 19 minutes.

“Ok. I’ll stay up with you.” I said. Even though I’ve been with Patrick long enough to know that “OHMYGOD! THAT CAKE LOOKS SO GOOD! IMA EAT THE WHOLE THING IN ONE SITTING!” Really means, “I’ll probably struggle to finish one large piece and then complain I have belly rot.” So I was all about hopping on board when he wanted to pull an all-nighter CLEANING, which, for the record, is the worst reason to pull an all-nighter.

We managed to do a lot of gutting out, throwing away, organizing, dancing and reminiscing. Which was fun. Again, with an asterisk. It wasn’t, you know, the same as lying on the couch eating chocolate, but it wasn’t the most excruciating thing I’ve ever lived through. We all know what that was.

Sunday was round two. What, you don’t want to hear about this anymore? Too boring? I know, totally. Here’s the short version: I tackled, in record time, the job of organizing the storage closet. THE STORAGE CLOSET. If this doesn’t excite you, you certainly don’t want to hear about the caulk job Patrick did on my sink.

It was the sacrificial lamb of weekends. It was the one weekend we spent slaving away so the we can enjoy future weekends without the dark cloud that is our storage closet looming over our heads. And I’m really hoping my marriage goes back to normal now that I don’t have to hear Patrick gab on and on about caulk.

So, yeah, fun* weekend.

_________

*not fun

Share and Enjoy