If I had a nickel for every time I started a post with “I can’t believe it’s already Monday…” I would be a rich girl.
Or I’d have about thirty five cents.
Either way, I can’t believe that it’s Monday because these past two days flew by, as per usual.
The weekend started off with a bang. Literally. We had a major thunderstorm on Friday night, with more lightning than I think I’ve seen in my whole life and rain that blew parallel to the ground. In the midst of the thunder and rain, Matt and I decided to go to the movies! We waited to leave until there was a lull in the storm, but even during the lull it was still raining hard enough for Matt to immediately turn on his windshield wipers, which is noteworthy.
Matt and I agree on many things, but we have completely different philosophies about windshield wipers. I believe in turning them on as fast as possible at the first indication of precipitation. I hate it when there is a drop of rain on my windshield. HATE. IT.
Matt, on the other hand, is content to leave them off until he can hardly see through the windshield. So when we’re driving together, we have an unspoken battle of wills. He leaves the wipers off for as long as he can, and I try to keep myself from saying, “PLEASE TURN ON THE WINDSHIELD WIPERS!!”
I always lose.
By the time we arrived at the movie theater, rain was coming down in BUCKETS. Matt dropped me off at the door because he is a gentleman, and then ventured out to find a parking spot. Keep in mind that it was Friday night at 7:45, so the closet parking spot was practically in the next zip code. His shirt was soaked when he made it into the theater, and was still wet when we left two hours later.
While Matt parked I went into the theater to purchase the tickets. I stepped right up to the ticket window to place my order, and the grumpy, middle aged woman behind the counter asked me how old I was. I assumed that was because she wanted to see if I would qualify for the student discount. Unfortunately I didn’t have my school ID with me, and I knew if I told her my real age it was possible that she would doubt the fact that I was a student, because in general 22 year olds have completed their education and I certainly didn’t want to bore her with my lengthy tale of how I am pursuing a post-graduate degree because while I had a lovely time as an English major, it’s not something that screams IN DEMAND IN THE JOB MARKET and I just want to be able to move out on my own and support myself and buy cute little accessories at Ikea for my apartment!
So, I lied. I told the woman that I was 21, hoping that she would assume that at that age I was still a student and knock a dollar off the adult ticket price of $11.50. Or as I like to call it, HIGHWAY ROBBERY.
However, when I told her my (fake) age, she asked to see my license. The license that clearly shows that I am no longer 21. Shoot. I opened my wallet, pulled out my license, and slid it across the counter. She studied it for a moment, looked straight at me, and said “You’re 22.”
I did the only thing I could do in that moment, which was look down at my feet and utter the lamest, most unbelievable excuse in the book.
“Oh. I forgot.”
Luckily she did end up giving me the tickets, along with a large helping of some serious eye rolling. Can’t really say that I blame the woman.
While I waited by the popcorn counter for Matt to come inside, I looked down at our tickets.
RATED R. The ticket woman wasn’t asking my age because she couldn't decide if I was young enough to be a student; she wanted to make sure that I WAS AT LEAST SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD. Which means that the effort I went to in order to make myself appear YOUNGER was TOTALLY UNNECESSARY.
Saturday was a full of shopping and visiting and eating homemade pizza with some family. My cousin and I are dog sitting this week, so we devoted our Sunday morning to watching quite a few hours of quality television programming, and by that I mean the wedding of Prince Charles and Princess Diana along with several episodes of Jerseylicious. And then we spent the entire afternoon floating around in the pool. Tough life.
As it turns out, royal weddings, Jerseylicious, and swimming can really wear a girl out, and by last night we were understandably EXHAUSTED. I went to bed at 9:45 and enjoyed a solid nine hours of sleep. It was glorious.
Although, I’ve read that one of the best anti-aging techniques is making sure you get enough sleep. I’m thinking that perhaps I should cut down on the shut eye. After all, I’m turning TWENTY THREE in a few weeks, and I’d love to look, oh I don't know, MY DECADE.