Mondays back from "vacations" are always lousy. I put vacation in quotes because I didn't actually go anywhere. But I didn't go to work, I did sleep in, and I had no homework. That's one hell of a vacation if you ask me. I requested last Thursday and Friday off back in like, July (mostly because I thought that's when we were going on our annual family trip, but apparently not.) So since I had no plans, and wasn't about to go into work because of the lack of plans, I decided that Shawn and I should use some buddy passes and fly somewhere fun. I was excited. Vacations rule. But alas, turns out Shawn being the Scout Master pretty much annihilated any plans that I had made of a mini vacation. Thank you, scout camp. I should probably do a better job at supporting my husband in his church duties, but I don't think I've ever been more irritated with a church calling. Wife points.
So my not-really-a-vacation vacation consisted of...
-Sleeping in. Basically the most important part of any vacation. (Nothing irritates me more than going somewhere for a vacation, then having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to hike a mountain, or to make it to the front of whatever line, or to catch a bus/taxi/train. If I have to wake up before 8, it isn't a vacation.)
-Watching about 379,342,932 epidodes of Snapped on Oxygen. Women bashing their drugged husbands over the head with an axe 25 times... Women shooting their sleeping husbands... Women blaming their husband's death on their daughter... Women thinking they're an alien princess from another world so they have to kill Mrs. X... Basically there's a lot of effed up women in the world. Where's the meds for these ladies? Needless to say I had all sorts of fun dreams over the weekend.
-Cleaning. Yes folks, I actually was kind of productive.
-Played with/tried not to kill my dog. He's the cutest piece of puppy you'll ever see, but, you know. He's decided that pooping on our new rug is fun. Specifically, pooping on the white parts of our rug. When we lived in our apartment, I was always paranoid that it smelled like farts and sex. Now I'm paranoid that our house smells like everything dog. Dog fur, dog breath, dog food, dog ass. You better believe that I ask just about everyone that walks into my house if it smells okay. Yes, even the Relief Society President. I'm only kind of paranoid.
-Because of the above mentioned bullet, I attempted to give Toby a bath. Yeah, attempted. That is a two man job. I wish you could have been there... really.
-I was eco-friendly and didn't shower unless I absolutely had to. I'm that refined.
-The night Shawn ditched me, I ordered a whole pizza and cheesy bread and watched When In Rome and Valentines Day - all the while being secretly afraid that a psychopath killer was going to break down my door and slaughter me with an axe. Being alone at night isn't so much fun. I may or may not have cried a little bit.
-We did a crap load of yard work. I trimmed some bushes/trees, and went on a dog crap scavenger hunt. Are you jealous yet?
-We went to Texas Roadhouse, after eating my leftover pizza for breakfast and lunch. I got the salmon slathered in butter. And instantly felt 9 pounds fatter afterwards. Well worth the imaginary pounds.
-Then we went to some good ol' fashioned church.
Do I know how to rock a pretend vacation or what? May not sound like much, because, honestly it wasn't. BUT, it was relaxing for the most part.
And that's the point of a vacation.
On a totally unrelated note: My wonderful aunt has been diagnosed with Lymphoma in the last week - any prayers in her and her family's behalf would be immensely appreciated.
You frost my cupcake.