Fred's alarm goes off. He wakes me up and tells me through his retainer-induced lisp that Arthur, my favorite childhood television show, is on at 7.
We sleepily sit in front of our fuzzy tube TV--Fred on the yoga ball, me in a camping chair. (We're not big on real furniture...or any furniture, really. Did I mention that we sleep in a bed? I did not. You know why? Because we sleep on the linoleum.)
We cut Arthur short and decide to make scrambled eggs. Fred puts his in a burrito with salsa, cheese, and whatever else he can find in the refrigerator. I eat mine with a slice of toast.
Fred and I cozy up to his laptop. I help him revise his beastly term paper. Together we look up cases and check facts, delete and rewrite paragraphs, and try not to bite our nails (it's our shared nervous habit. Cuters).
I make a half batch of cookies for visiting teaching.
Fred leaves for school. He says good-bye: "See you later, booger brains. Don't poop your pants today and stuff!" He's such a flirt.
Fred is probably studying. I'm doing P90X. You know, because I'm a trophy wife...who still watches Arthur and makes cookies before noon.
I shower. I notice our fabric shower curtain is getting moldy on a corner that is constantly wet because our tile wall leaks. (Maintenance hasn't responded to our request to fix it. They're probably still scared of our weapon.) I throw the shower curtain into the on-site washing machine.
Fred is in class.
I sit at a picnic bench outside our apartment to do independent study schoolwork while listening to Coldplay's U.F.O. on repeat.
Fred comes home for dinner. He makes a sandwich and watches football.
We watch the end of this week's episode of The Biggest Loser on Hulu while washing the dishes. Well, mostly I watch it, and Fred just overhears it (and groans each time someone cries) while he washes dishes. :)
Fred goes back on campus to study. It's dark outside at this point. I read King Lear for independent study, then decide to walk to the grocery store to pick up some stuff. The grocery store is about two miles away, so I bring headphones so I can listen to Pandora while I walk.
Ummm, Raisin Bran on MEGA SALE. I promptly purchase five boxes at the self checkout. The guy behind me says, "Wow, SOMEbody likes Raisin Bran. Ha ha." Then he asks for my number. I say no and feel completely unimpressed and put my headphones back in while I stack my treasures in my arms and exit the grocery store. Then I realize that I can't fit five boxes of family size Raisin Bran into my one backpack. Then I feel smart when I think to pull all the bags out of the boxes, throw the boxes away, and then fit all bags in my backpack.
Fred asks where I am. I tell him. He asks if he can come meet me halfway to walk me the rest of the way home.
I get stopped by a pack of Korean tourists on bicycles. They're lost. They barely speak English. One of them holds up a piece of paper with an address on it.
I say, "Oh, just ride your bikes fifteen minutes that way."
"FIFTY MINUTES?" they cry in distress.
"No no!" I laugh. "FIFTEEN. As in, ten to twenty."
"Oh, ya ya! Good!" they laugh back.
Fred and I meet on the overpass of the freeway. He starts laughing when he sees me. "You look ridiculous," he says. (I'm wearing shorts, black furry boots, Fred's ski jacket that goes just a few inches above my knees, and a giant hunter-esque hat with my pixie-cut-gone-mullet hair poking out. I get cold easily, okay?)
We decide to stop by In-N-Out to use the restroom and get some water.
We decide we might as well order french fries while we're there.
Okay, okay. We might as well order a hamburger and a grilled cheese sandwich, too.
We rub our bellies and leave In-N-Out. Fred pulls out his iPod. I take one earbud, he takes the other. We listen to Christmas music as we walk home with our arms around each other, stopping to kick through especially big leaf piles.
We approach a stoplight. When the walk signal turns, a speaker says, "The walk sign is on. The walk sign is on. The walk sign is on." Fred and I joke about what if it said, "Your mom is on." We laugh at that joke for a good two blocks.
We arrive home.
We curl up on the couch so Fred can read Calvin and Hobbes comics to me. He has a book of them, but they're in German, so he reads them first in German, then translates them for me. I learn how to say teacher, tiger, sugar, not me, darn it, different, and magic carpet in German.
We get distracted and Google more about Bill Watterson, the creator of Calvin and Hobbes.
I brush my teeth and get in bed. Fred gets ready for bed while I read Believing Christ by Stephen E. Robinson.
Fred gets so hyper when it's time for bed. Is this just a common thing with guys? This is when he'll come running into the bedroom giggling like a three-year-old. It makes me think, "Oh my gosh, this is exactly how our son will be." He'll jump on me, bite me, crawl under the covers to tickle my feet, and make up songs too inappropriate to post. I usually get annoyed because I'm trying to have spiritual relaxation by reading from my spiritually uplifting book, and all he wants to do is wrestle and make farting noises.
I get exasperated and say, "Um, can't you see that I'm trying to read?"
He gets really quiet and sadly gets under the covers.
I feel too guilty to concentrate on what I'm reading, so I put my book down, turn off the lamp, and snuggle into him. I say sorry. He smiles and says it's okay. We say a prayer. Fred lets me wedge my ice cold feet between his boiling hot feet.
I get philosophical and teary eyed over the chapter I just read in Believing Christ.
Fred gets philosophical and teary eyed over Bill Watterson.
We challenge each other to saying different things with our retainers in our mouths. We laugh so hard we cry.
Fred wants to wrestle and make farting noises some more.
I get annoyed that he'd rather do that than snuggle and tell me how much he loves me. Duh.
Fred feels bad. He pulls me into a tight hug and plays with my hair. He tells me he loves me because I make yummy cookies and because I have a Grade-A "bootwah."
We fall asleep playing footsie.