Happy Post is Happy

My last post was a little… intense for me to write. While I love how cathartic those “bare your soul” kind of posts are, I need a breather.

So, today, I’m going to share some funny stories about hubby and I.

A few weeks ago, hubby and I celebrated our one year anniversary… on the wrong day. How did I deduce that it was the wrong day? I looked at my Facebook timeline and realized that I was a week off. (I also got a big old, “You mean I was RIGHT??” from Jason about that one.)

This actually follows in the tradition of everything regarding our wedding being a bit of a hot mess. From the hilarity of mistakes made while filling out our marriage license to utterly failing to plan literally anything until the day before the wedding (which also happened to be the day I got a new job), our wedding was absolute chaos from start to finish. Don’t get me wrong, I loved our wedding ceremony and wouldn’t have had it any other way, but there’s no denying that it was insane.

Before we got married, we didn’t know what we were doing and while we’ve learned along the way, we’re still pretty clueless.

Story from before we got married:

Jason hurt himself and since we didn’t have a hot-pack, he filled a sock with rice and threw it in the microwave… for 6 minutes. I was in the bedroom and noticed an awful smell and some smoke. Then the fire alarm starts going off. Jason yells at me to get outside, so I do. He dumped the flaming sock into the sink and doused it with water to put out the flames before bringing the melted sock and ruined microwave outside. Neighbors came by to see what the ruckus was about and I watched the grass slowly die around the remains of the sock.

The apartment smelled for about a month after that.

Now, we have a dual hot and cold pack that looks like a kitty. (This means we get to say fun things like, “Would you like me to put the kitty in the freezer?”) We know that it is not to be in the microwave for over 2 minutes and that it needs to be put inside a plastic bag before it goes in the freezer.

Isn’t it cute?

Story from several weeks ago:

Please reference this post, in which I discuss going out to explore nature at 8 PM, hiking 1.5 miles to get to the beach and watch the sunset, then realizing that the way back was 90% uphill. This ended with us realizing our car was broken into and a chat with the park ranger about why we were out so late. Good times.

Now, hubby won’t take me anywhere when it’s that close to dark and he makes sure I’m not signing him up for masochistic activities.

Some other silly things I’ve done include:

  • Before marriage: Going to the beach and wearing flip-flops when it was actually rather cold and discovering that the beach doesn’t have sand. Instead, it has a lot of broken seashells and other hard things that really hurt when you step on them.
  • After marriage: Going on a week-long vacation with my husband and limiting my footwear to two pairs of flip-flops (when I should’ve anticipated we would be hiking and visiting the zoo).

On the other hand, there have been times where I think we have perhaps learned the wrong thing. For instance, a while ago I totally freaked out while I was taking a shower because a very large mosquito almost landed on me. Jason heard me screaming and comes running into the bathroom, thinking someone is trying to kill me. When I told him that a mosquito was in the shower, he just walked away. He was so angry. “My knife was drawn. I was ready to end someone and it was a freaking mosquito!”

A couple days ago, there was a giant fly in the house. It landed on me and I freaked out a little. Later on, I spot it going in the bathroom so I shut the door and tell Jason to go kill it. While he’s trying to kill it, I start playing music from the Undertale soundtrack, so hubby thinks I’m mocking him. (I didn’t mean it that way, but once it started playing I laughed a little.)

He comes out in a few minutes and says he hit it a few times but can’t find the body. It then appears in the kitchen again and I’m like whatever I’m taking a shower. As I’m washing my hair, my earring back falls off. I call for Jason because I can’t tell if it went down the drain and regardless I want him to take the rest of my earring so I don’t lose it. He doesn’t come. I figure he can’t hear me because he’s either outside or my music is too loud. When I get out of the shower, I say, “Why aren’t you ever inside when I need you?” Yadda yadda yadda…

“Oh, that’s what you wanted. I thought you were yelling because that fly was in there or something.”

“I specifically tried to sound less panicked so you would realize I wasn’t screaming about an insect. Though you should still come if I’m screaming because someone could actually be trying to kill me.”

One last thing…

I never had a dog or a cat while I was growing up. We took in a stray kitten when she was a wee little thing, maybe a week or two old, a year before I moved in with hubby. It broke my heart to leave her behind. Ever since then, I have wanted to get a cat.

This week, we almost succeeded in getting one.

This is Panther. Panther showed up Monday and we got her to come inside. However, when we closed the screen door, Panther made the most pathetic, horribly sad sound I have ever heard in my life. We let Panther return to the outdoors.

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