What up doods! Let’s catch up a bit, shall we?
Can we all take a moment to rejoice in the fact that it’s Thursday! Which means the weekend is almost upon us. (Fistpumphighkick!)
So, we’re in the process of adding a closet to our master bedroom. And by we, I mean our super nice contractor and his buddy with the dreadlocks (who is also a cat person…?). They’re great guys but is it ok that I still feel weird about leaving pseudo-strangers alone in my house all day? I don’t really worry that anything creepy is going on, it just feels strange ya know? This morning, right after they’d arrived, I noticed a roll of toilet paper on the dining room table. I wasn’t really sure what it meant… do they think they can’t use ours? Is ours not plush enough? Not enough plys? Whatever the reason, I made a joke to one of the guys like, “you know, we have plenty to spare” as I pointed at the roll on the table… and all I got was a confused stare in return. Either he didn’t get the joke OR I’m now wondering if maybe I actually left it on the table? If I did, I have no idea why. Casey, did you leave it there? Regardless: awkward.
Let’s see, what else?
Tomorrow Casey and I are going to Montana for a wedding, which I’m super excited about. I haven’t been to Montana since I went on a roadtrip with my family in the third grade. Luckily this time we’re flying and not driving an astro van. I’m also excited that we have our fancy new camera to take with us, so hopefully there will be some fancy new camera pictures to share next week.
On a totally un-related note, I went bra shopping earlier. (Disclaimer: Dad/brothers/any men related to me/any men in general may not want to read past this point. You’ve been warned.) I’ve been feeling like the old boulder holders have been ill-fitting lately so over my lunch break I headed to Nordstrom to get properly fitted. Not the most fun experience in the world, especially when you’re standing half-naked in front of a stranger, in lighting that resembles that of a truck stop bathroom, in a shitty old bra. The saleswoman was a saint though and made it seem as normal as possible… if that’s possible… to be measuring my boobs. And it turns out I’m a whole cup size larger than I thought? Crikey. So the saleswoman (AKA my new breast friend) brought me some stuff to try on and voila! I am now the proud new owner of a pretty brassiere that allows me to bend AND snap. Reese Witherspoon would be proud. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and my tator tots seem to be comfortably happy in their new home.
Well, if you made it past that story, you’re a true friend. Or a truly bored enemy.
Shawnna and her boobs