my husband hasn't planned a weekend festivity for us since the day he proposed. almost 2 years ago. don't get me wrong - that was a great day that he planned.. way back then. maybe he thinks he deserves a vacation for that. maybe I just look forward to my Friday nights more than he does.
I enjoy rewards - and Friday is a reward for getting through Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. it's a reward for working out all week.. I get Friday night off. so that I can do something other than sit around and watch tv on my couch like I do every other night. so that I can put on earrings and that nice shirt I've had for a month but still haven't worn yet because we haven't done anything that requires it.
so I decided to take action. I developed a plan to change this pattern but alas, it just plain did not work. I told myself I would not propose any plans for our weekend. would not think of anything fun to do. would refrain from sharing excitement about the weekend. and I did such a good job at this.
until he tells me one of his friends wants a poker / guy night. and it's going to happen on... FRIDAY. nice. so not only am I not going out to dinner or wine or a movie or even the front lawn with him, but now I am doing the same old Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday shit solo on a Friday.
I can enjoy doing things alone but one of the joys of Friday involves a nice wine or a beer. and I refuse to go to a bar, with the clubbing young crowd, alone.
but wait a second.
hold the phone.
don't drop it like it's hot just yet.
what it do baby boo...
I see a friend's extra Creedence Clearwater Revival concert ticket at the Saratoga Mountain Winery in my future tonight. ok honey, you go toss around some cards on a small table at a sausage fest. I hope you get some good flops and rivers. I'll be rolling on the river. boo ya.
the moving is complete. boxes are emptied. new tv is on the way. we can sit down and enjoy the olympics without thinking of what the hell we're going to put in that extra closet. everything was honky doory. until I saw the biggest spider I have ever seen in person, crawling rampant, in my garage. good thing I have already done a ton of organizing in there because I will never go in the garage again until Nick shows me the carcass of this ginormous Lord of the Rings character that should be paying us rent money.
never again will my feet trek through there - even if I'm doing a sprint THROUGH the garage to pop out at the front yard. it is just not going to happen. Nick, of course, did not see it. the man who, when a mysterious noise sounds, he asks me "what was that?" while he remains seated. the husband who, upon being alarmed by me that there is a spider too large for me to comfortably kill without the threat of it possibly jumping on my skin, comes over and coos the spider in to his arms, and sets him free. right outside the door. so that he can step right back in whenever he so chooses. no - he did not see this creature. so of course, he is thinking I am exaggerating. but I swear, this fucker upon meeting my gaze, threw his cloak over his body and became invisible. how he got Frodo's cloak? I dare not ask. Frodo himself is probably hiding in our rafters signaling Spidey with secret baseball-like hand symbols.... "she is.. . desk room.. . go for.. . bunt. correction - right.. . cankle"
since running away from spidey and researching and writing my anxiety away, I think I may know what kind of spider it is. because google images makes us all professionals.
ok so that's not completely accurate. I am just trying to rid of any future nightmares by bringing humor to the table.
but here, in all his / her glory, is the true evil spidey (or at the least the closest google has to offer):