You go from sitting on the couch like a lump watching football and contemplating leaving your clean clothes in the basket next to you and just dressing from there all week to ... Hey, you're up too? Great, let's go have breakfast. Wasn't that yummy? Too bad the cast of The Hills, a.k.a. the teens next to us, were so obnoxious. Ooo wanna go to Ulta, I hear there's a sale! Let's split this variety pack of teeny nail polish. That gloss smells num! I need to stop by Home Depot and get hardware for those shelves we're going to put up in your closet. Lord, we need to go home and clean. What in the name of Christmas have those cats been eating to make that smell come out of them?? It's like cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic herd. I need to pack my dinner. Aaand I've got to go to work while you're home for the evening, so we can swap tomorrow and I'll be home during the day while you work.
The latest ULTA acquisition, OPI's Toy Box of baby bottles of sparkly Christmas colors: Glamour Game, Brand New Skates, Little Red Wagon, Don't Toy With Me
That's not all that goes down, since Christina and I have also gotten a live Christmas tree, a first for both of us, and made several runs to storage sheds and vacuumed countless times because of the Catherd we've got (more about them in a minute). But it's a slice of how packed your day gets when there's someone else in it that causes you to live less like a teenager with a credit card and no curfew.
I've also started cooking again. I stopped when I moved to Austin and no longer lived with my best friend and her hungry boy, because one thing my grandmother didn't teach me about cooking was how to do it for one. Very quickly into my relationship with Christina I realized despite how appealing it sounded, we could *not* go to Chuy's 24/7, and I also realized very quickly that Christi does *not* cook. She can clean a kitchen in 10 seconds flat, though, so it's been working out great. The only thing is that I'm a messy cook, and sometimes dirty a lot more stuff than I should, so she sometimes finds herself loading the dishwasher and wondering aloud, "How the hell did the lawnmower figure into making chili???"
We've also gone through being sick at the same time. For those of you who have not experienced this with your significant other, let's just say the romantic veil that surrounds him or her in your eyes gets suddenly torn off and set aflame, and you see that person for everything he or she is, phlegm and fever and all. You don't judge, though, because you're just as disgusting, and you can't believe this person still wants to kiss you and love on you considering how funky you've gotta be looking at this moment.
Being sick made me realize I'm at my best when I'm in a relationship. And Amy Zerba, before you completely rotoate into the ground over that statement, lemme explain. By myself, when I was sick I whined and complained a lot to my empty house, didn't get out of bed except to go to work, and didn't really eat right in order to get better. With Christina, I really sucked it up and tried to feel better so I could take care of her since if there was gonna be cookin' I was gonna do it. I was motivated to get food that was good for us and keep up with our medicine intake, as well as preparing the infamous whiskey-honey-lemon nighttime cocktail. Essentially, when I was concentrating on making her better, I got better because I felt like I had to. And I think that's a small facet of how a relationship makes me better: it takes me outside of myself, outside my head (where I can sometimes live) and lessens any crises or worries I have. And that's pretty cool.
So I know I was gonna talk about the cats, but that's really another entry all to themselves. And you'll understand why. Plus I need visual aids to help you understand the dynamics of our Catherd.
So I'll leave you with this, the hardest-rocking little kid that ever knew the words to "You Give Love A Bad Name" and attended a Rutgers game:
