... and Closed!
*Please ignore the fact that my head looks the size of a largish cantaloupe and that Evs' man-paw is gripping my shoulder as if I were a long-lost fraternity beer pong buddy. I keep telling him "Wife = Waist" but somehow we continue to take photographs in this "great to see you, old chap!" fashion.
On July 27th, I wrote this post. If my memory serves me correctly (and it does, because, uh, I just reread my own words, duh), I proclaimed that the big girl closets and the master bath where dual/simultaneous-teeth-brushing is possible and the Tex-Mexy Sun Faces would be "ours in a few short weeks."
It's October 5th.
Math is not my strong suit (hence, law school), but I'm pretty sure that's a shitton (technical term) longer than a few short weeks.
Meh. ToMAYto, ToMAHto.
Now is not the time to rehash The Dramz.
Now is a time for wine that costs more than $12.00 a pop and a serial killer movie on Netflix (Mr. Brooks, if you must know) (what? we all have our vices, yo) and a spicy black bean soup and some Hatch chile corn pudding.
We'll save the Big Rehash for another day.
Until then... a little tidbit of Crazytown:
That? Would be a can of refried beans.
And that? Would be our "Thanks for Buying Our House" Gift.