It’s sunny and almost 80 degrees outside! I am dying of being indoors!
Also, there’s a pile of wet gum on my desk. I’ll get to that in a minute. On Monday night, we fixed the bed. This was a more complicated process than it sounds, because it involved a bunch of metal screws and perhaps even some superglue. We restored the mattress to its original location (which was kind of sad, since camping was awesome), and everything is still intact to this moment. Only time will tell whether we’re awesome IKEA re-engineers or people resigned to sleeping on a pile of brackets and pressboard. After that, I cut Matt’s hair. This prospect should not have been as scary as it was, since I had clippers with a plastic guard that promised me he’d come away from the ordeal with half an inch of hair remaining, but STILL. Surprisingly, it came out very well, and I’ve been telling him the area I left too long in the front was totally intentional, because it looks cute. Yesterday, I went to see Mahogany for the haircutting/dyeing. She’s so good with the color, we always end up with a bunch of other stylists gathered around, complimenting her on it. Also, say you are having your hair washed, leaning back over the sink, and Total Eclipse of the Heart comes on. Then everyone starts singing along at the top of their lungs, and you’re stuck there holding in your laughter with soap all over your head. IT HURTS. I mosied on over to the Metrodome, and managed to lose my ticket in between leaving the bathroom and rounding up a pop, which is clearly a message to never put cash in the pockets of those pants. Luckily, Matt was minding his phone, and I found my way to out seats in the upper deck near home plate. This increased my fear fiftyfold as regards being beaned in the head by a foul ball (I’m bad at paying attention to beisbol!), but it was awesome to see the game from somewhere other than the outfield. The Twins were down 4-1, but managed to tie it up in the eighth inning (you would probably call this a ‘period’ in hockey, but there are many more of them, and no intermission during which one may obtain a pretzel without missing any of the action). In the ninth, the Sox switched pitchers 47 times, which bolsters my theory that baseball teams have at least 200 players. (Matt swears this isn’t true, but I’m having none of it.) Then it was suddenly the 10th inning, which in hockey is simply called ‘overtime’. And though there are technically no shootouts in baseball, Proud Canadian Justin Morneau kind of made it look that way. 26 more Twins scored, we all yelled a lot, and then it was time to go. [My god, I would make the best sportswriter ever! HEY ESPN LOOK RIGHT HERE] We got blown out the doors of the Metrodome to the sound of people shrieking and scrambling. It took us a second to realize that this was because there was a typhoon in downtown Minneapolis, totally unbeknownst to us in our giant Twins-filled marshmallow. We huddled under the overhang and watched as a giant squid snatched people from the sidewalk, and entire families were devoured by sharks. An ark floated by. Then I remembered that the vent on my sunroof was open. Matt and I waded the three blocks to my car. I had to take off my flipflops because they were too slippery to walk in, which worked pretty well until it started hailing. IT HURTS. Miguel was parked in ankle-deep water, and there was rain pooled in the console. I drove home with the heat on 86, and was fine til I had to get out of the car at Matt’s. At that point, I was pretty sure I was going to die of hypothermia, but at least we weren’t eaten by sharks. One hot shower and an episode of Edgemont later, it was back to the best day ever, even if the entire contents of my purse is still wet today. Tonight we will be a model of domesticity, because he will be cleaning while I’m making fundraiser-truffles for a wedding in California. There will hopefully be plenty of time for chillaxation as well, because tomorrow is Thursday, and that’s already the weekend. If someone could inform my boss about that as well, I’d appreciate it. Jenni