You know it’s time to do laundry when your underwear smells like dish soap

Oh sorry, was that too much information for your virgin eyes?

We’re back from Europe!

The trip was amazing and I have a whole post about it coming as soon as I can pry Zack’s laptop from his start-of-a-new-term clutches. I need it for access to all the photos we (he, if I’m being honest) took. Paris was even more lovely than I imagined and we had perfect weather while we were there. Said weather enabled us to walk a good 5-10 miles each day and take in all the touristy sights. I learned lots about myself: that I suck at French, cute walking shoes do not necessarily ensure that they will be comfortable/supportive/a good decision in any way, and that I’m pretty whiny when in pain but for the promise of wine I can be a motherfucking trooper. We didn’t have such luck with the weather in London but managed to make a lot of the highlights. We were disappointed to miss a few things because of the rain, but consoled ourselves with Indian food, ample pub time, and two shows (Phantom of the Opera and Les Mis).

I outclassed myself at the Indian restaurant by using the men’s toilet when the women’s toilet was occupied, which apparently was a big deal because the woman sitting next to us (who’d beaten me to the ladies’ room) immediately relayed the event to her husband and they had a good laugh over it. I didn’t really get why it was A Thing, since the two bathrooms were identical, but whatever. Once the ice was broken we learned that the other couple had just seen Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom of the Opera that makes me want to die a little every time I think about it (it is set in Coney Island, New York, need I say more? Except: for shame, Andrew Lloyd Webber!). They assured me it was fabulous and then the whole bathroom fiasco made sense. They were crazy cakes.

Coming home was tough. I was not ready to come back to work, to getting up at 6:30 a.m. every day, to the responsibility of dog walking and cat puke clean-up (on the bed, waiting for us after our 17 hours of travel last Saturday, oh yes it was) and work schedules and money and school and oh yeah, we probably want food in the house again at some point, huh?

I’ve studiously ignored the mountain of laundry that is slowing taking over our bedroom. I mean, dried cat puke on my bed – the bed I was hoping to fall immediately into –  within the first five minutes of being home does not exactly warm me to the idea of laundry beyond that first necessary load. However, I was not happy about having to wash a pair of underwear in the sink this morning to avoid panty lines on my last pair of clean dress pants, so I give. Laundry, you win this round.

But I am totally having a bottle of wine with my chores. And maybe a chocolate bunny.

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