At the end of last week, I was about to go on a face-punching spree.
In a 36-hour window, I think I burst into tears at least 39 times. It was rough. Mike is a trooper, and I am a hormonal basket case.*
Thankfully, that was nothing a little birthday celebration and musical theater couldn’t cure. Also, maybe some Midol, but whatever.
Saturday night I headed back to my old neighborhood to celebrate Megan’s 30th Birthday… where I, once again, failed to take any pictures. Thankfully, our friend Lauren is a better person than I am, so I at least have this to show for it:
You like that? It’s cool, boo, you can say it: we make 30 look good.
So after a few hours of talking about my cleavage, Megan insisting I tell people my most embarrassing stories, and eating some delicious cupcakes, I went home to husbang — who had to work all day on a Saturday. Sad face!
Sunday we had tickets to see Wicked at The Kennedy Center with a bunch of Drexel Alumni — even though we didn’t actually talk to any of them. We just rolled in, grabbed our lunches, took a stroll on the terrace:
… and then enjoyed the show.
Well, I enjoyed the show. Mike tolerated the show. But he’s a good husband, so he didn’t complain, and he let me eat his leftover cookie from lunch.
*My hormones have finally returned to normal — just in time for me to start my first round of fertility drugs TODAY. So, please — whoever you pray to — say a prayer for my husband, because I’m sure I’m going to be a crazy person for the next five to seven days.