The kind that makes me want to poke my eyes out.
Matt and I spent 36 hours straight cooped up in his house, being boring. Not the cute, don’t-bother-us-we’re-rolling-around-under-the-sheets-in-our-skivvies boring, but the type of boring where we sit on the couch with our laptops (we both had work to do), semi-watching movies we’ve already seen a gazillion times (Wedding Singer, Family Guy, Back to the Future I, II and III) and not really talking, except to blurt out, “I’m hungry” (me) or “I have gas” (also me) or “I’m so bored” (yep, me again). This is a glimpse of a life that could be. OMG, help.
I suppose if I’m destined to live a life of responsibility, there’s no person I’d rather live it with than him.
Nah, who am I kidding? Someone kidnap me and take me to the nearest bar, pronto! We still have an hour and a half before the weekend’s officially over.
