I've braved the Showdown with the Coffeemaker and while I haven't gone to check yet, I smell coffee, though it could be just flooding the kitchen and plotting my trip back to November 5th.
Plus, we have photographic evidence, and we're quietly celebrating that the cops didn't come by. Or, I'm assuming we are. Alone. From each of our homes. Because no one is stupid enough to start calling or texting yet. Because sound and light aren't exactly good things right now. I'm wearing sunglassees as I type, waiting for the tylenol to kick in.
Ok, you saw the before...so pretty...on my lovely "porte cochere" (thank you Bianca for that super way-less-dryer-in-the-front-yard description)
And, for the record, Kate was the first one to chuck the shoes. We felt it was important to point that out.
Finally, after eight different wines, eight friends, three very annoyed neighbors, three "designated" drivers (Ellen, one retrieval soon-to-be-husband, and one over-nighter-stayer) we did manage to come to a consesus on the Winner.
Mommys, meet your T-Box Victor. All Hail:
The Mighty Merlot. Rather than smelling of perm, tasting of feet, or used to kill Kate's grass, this wonder of cube technology got us reminiscing about the power of the Third Date...
Rock on with your bad *ass* self Merlot. You are the t-box of choice. Which is why we're pretty sure you're at the top of this t-box totem pole. It's kinda hard to put a crown on the middle guy.
And with that, I'm off to clean the kitchen. Or, sell the house.
xo, Kate (and Lydia, who's totally still sleeping...)
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