Well, the rest of the Pope weekend was uneventful for those of us in the Philadelphia suburbs. Saturday was the perfect fall day, so I went for a long walk, got a fancy coffee, wandered the thrift store, went to Trader Joe's and Target, and ended at Burlington Coat Factory in search of a new pair of jeans.
I've been hearing that boot cut jeans are back in style, which is something I've been waiting for since about 2002. However, there have been a lot of styles I've totally bought into and then later regretted. I'm looking at you bubble shirts and parachute pants. So I decided to text my sister just to make sure boot cut jeans really and truly are popular again, because if there's one thing Emily knows how to do it's give an honest opinion.
So I sent her a text that said, "When I say boot cut jeans, you think ____."
Do you know what she said?
In the end she assured me they were in style again, so I bought a pair and I can't remember the last time I was so happy with a purchase.
Speaking of purchasing things, I wore my new jeans the next day as we went house hunting. Matt and I have looked at houses with our realtor a few times now, and each time has been significantly better than the first when I cried before we even left our apartment because WHAT IF WE PICK THE WRONG HOUSE AND RUIN OUR LIVES AND OUR FUTURE AND THE FUTURES OF THE NEXT GENERATIONS?
And Matt said, "Laur, take a deep breath, we're not buying a house today."
He was right, and I haven't cried since. I just bring my little list of very important priorities along (window over the kitchen sink, good view of the sunset, and a nice patio or deck) and throw out as many HGTV terms as I can.
We ultimately didn't end up finding a house this weekend. Matt and I both worked from home on Monday, and I tried to look at some more online listings that morning, but my internet was acting funny. And then I tried to print something for work and discovered my printer wasn't working either,
I was so happy my very own IT guy was sitting on the couch and could employ a method other than my tried and true strategy of unplugging the offending device three times and saying a Hail Mary.
"My printer isn't working," I told Matt, "Could you take a look at it?"
"Sure," Matt said, "Although it may just have something to do with our wireless profile. I had to update some information."
Well yes, that would explain it. Evidently the information that had to be updated was the name. And it didn't occur to me that I should connect to the FBI surveillance van internet.
Our future neighbors are going to think we are nuts.
At least I'll look cute in my new jeans.