About a week before I started eighth grade, my dad started telling my brother, sister, and me that we would be having a “dry run” before our first day of school. It was my mom’s first year back to work as a teacher, so she was going to be very busy in the mornings, and he told us that we would have to set our alarms, wake up on time, get dressed, have breakfast, and walk to the bus stop just to make sure that the schedule worked perfectly. My sister was in kindergarten that year, so the idea of a dry run was ACES to her, but my brother and I just laughed and rolled our eyes because surely he could not be serious.
And then came the day before the first day of school.
And as we trudged across the street to the bus stop at 6:45 am, backpacks on and Dad waving from the front porch, we realized that he was serious.
Dad loves a good dry run.
And last weekend, I realized that I married someone who shares my father’s philosophy on dry runs.
Matt started a new job last Monday, and the weekend before we woke up, got ready according to the
proposed time schedule, drove to the train station, and even PARKED THE CAR in the spot Matt would be parking in. We stopped just short of inserting a few quarters into the meter and actually boarding the train.
It was like 2001 all over again.
In addition to a new morning routine, Matt’s new job also required a new wardrobe. We spent a few hours in Macy’s last week picking out some fancy new threads. I immediately got lost in the racks of dress pants and ties and OH, THE OPTIONS FOR BUTTON DOWNS and at one point I looked over and saw Matt just staring blankly at a mannequin (or, as he calls it, a dummy). “Are you okay?” I asked him. “Oh I’m fine,” he said, “just getting used to the type of outfit I will be wearing every day for the next forty five years.”
Hurry it up, retirement.
Matt had a great first week at his job, and his new position oh-so-conveniently coincided with the death of my laptop. Matt hasn’t had a computer in years, so once mine died we were totally without one.
We have been researching new devices for a few weeks, but it was difficult because I am not a fan of large purchases. If something costs more than about thirty dollars I will hem and haw for ages before biting the bullet. And Matt is the same way. Which is why I think we will never buy a house because SEVERAL HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS? It took us six solid months to decide on a SOFA.
And you should see us try to commit to buying the Value Pack of chicken at Wegman’s.
And so, after EXHAUSTIVE research and many debates between the iPad camp (Matt) and the laptop camp (me), we decided to purchase a laptop this weekend. We drove to Best Buy bright and early, only to discover that the doors didn’t open until 11:00. We went next door to Petsmart to kill some time. We checked out all of the hamsters and fish and watched puppy class for a little while, and then I went to check out the dog clothes (why on earth would a dog need a down vest, ANSWER ME THAT), while Matt perused the reptile department.
When we met back up, he was holding a piece of orange plastic coral and a King Tut fish tank decoration.
“What are your plans for those?” I asked.
“I thought they would look really cool on my desk in my new office,” he said.
Luckily the clock struck 11:00 so we put down King Tut and the coral TOOT SUITE and went next door to Best Buy. And do you know what was outside the Best Buy doors? A GIANT CROWD OF PEOPLE. I thought people only gathered outside of Best Buy on Black Friday, so color me surprised.
I was dying to push past people and run inside and scream, “WOOOO HOOOOO, WE’RE GONNA BE FIRST, GOTTA GET THIS AMAZING DEAL” but Matt wasn’t so much on board. And so instead, we walked in very sensibly and maturely and purchased a sensible, mature, computer.
From which I am now typing.
So, long story not short at all, oh Laura Darling is back.
Now all I need to make this one hundred percent official is a desk.
Preferably with a piece of decorative coral on top.