I have a super adorable boyfriend named Paul. What’s interesting about this is the fact that Paul is only three years older than me (technically 3 years and 4 months older). You saw that correctly–Paul is 34. If you have ever read this blog, you know that I tend to date men from a different generation, but I figured I’d give Paul a chance…and he is rocking it.
Anyway, I have spent my last three weekends at Paul’s house in Jersey. Delilah romps around the yard and betrays her loyalty by running to Paul whenever we make her choose. We spend 50% of our time wrapped up like pretzels while watching tv, 30% napping or just asleep,10% cooking or buying dinner, and the other 10% getting into trouble. This blog is about that last 10%.
Paul blames me for the incident, but he knows it was his fault…he knows.
I was taking Delilah for a potty walk in the yard and, because he adores me so much (as he should), Paul soon followed me out the door. It was only when I attempted to reenter the house that we realized Paul did not unlock the automatic lock on the door handle. Sometimes boys are stupid and, as adorable as he is, Paul is no exception (he is smart, but he has a Y chromosome). He thinks I should have remembered to unlock it when I left the house, but I’ve never left without Paul so he needs to accept the error was his and also accept that he is a dummy for not hiding a spare key somewhere.
Borrowing ladders from two separate neighbors, we climbed onto the roof in an attempt to break into the unlocked third floor window–however, after nearly sliding off the ledge, I refused to go further. Paul called his parents to come over with a spare key, but instead of driving 2 1/2 hours, his mother called the local fire department…and they came (your tax dollars hard at work)! Four firemen with a fire truck brought a 35 foot ladder and broke in through the attic….no window damage except to the screen. By the time we got in, my hot bagel and schmear was cold and my cold diet coke was hot. We wrapped up like pretzels for a few hours and napped.
After my second meal of the day and Paul’s fifth or sixth, we saw a Skittles commercial. Checking store hours we discovered Shoprite was our only option…so we went on a 9:45pm Skittles and junk food/soda run.
Moral of the story: Skittles make everything better.
Second Moral: Paul’s hot.