After attending Tiffany's festivities and exchanging presents with Tiff and Stacey (thanks girls! I love my stu-u-u-u-f!) Summer's nagging migraine had her turning a nice blue-green shade by 9 PM so we bid everyone a "Happy New Year's!" and ran out the door and into the rain.
Summer left a bit before midnight while Harry and I retreated downstairs and cozied on the couch after engaging in the culinary delights of Papa John's Pizza. Tossing the boxes to the side we kissed and cuddled and poked fun of Christina Aguilera's straw-head for a good twenty minutes.
Harry then decided to hand me his old pizza box - consequentally covering me in hot garlic butter. And, though we may be chubby, neither of us found it very arousing as I streaked to the washer while trying to remove one of the last sets of pants that actually slide on without the aid of power tools. The remainder of the day went as follows: sleep, eat, laundry, sleep, eat, Playstation 3 (we conquered "Resistance: Fall of Man", eat, laundry, sleep.
It was a good day.
Until Harry decided to toss a pretty pink sweater my way. "Here - fold this!" he laughed and giggled until the sweater bombed some drinks that were sitting to my left and ricocheted off. I sat in a sticky stupor and cursed up a storm while Harry scrambled to clean the mess.
In less than twelve hours - I had been covered in some sort of sticky or slimy goo on two separate occassions.
And not in a good way.
I get it though, I do.
2007 is trying to get me to give up, to throw my hands up and start taking bets on how 2008 will surely be better - but I refuse to give in. Bring on the goo, the sauces, the piles of marinara-laden pasta and stains galore! I'm ready.
Now, where did I put those Shout Wipes?