Andy and I are in our house.

Alone.

For the first hour, I was sitting fully clothed in a cold shower having a panic attack, because everything about this feels wrong. Andy walked in, leaned against the tub wall and threw a towel at my face.

So what do we do now?

We could drink?

It’s 8 in the morning.

When did you get old?

Ok, apparently one of us has to remain sober to go back and retrieve the children. I suggested drawing straws, but because his work involves electronics and expensive robotic equipment, and mine involves a keyboard and a Magic 8 Ball, by default, I get to drink.

I feel like we should do something profound, like invent something or adopt a whale.

Or you could unpack the suitcase you left in the hallway and just keep grabbing stuff out of as you need it.

We could watch our wedding video and talk about how dumb we looked?

Nah, I like to be drunk for that.

On account of the top hat?

And the soul patch.

I have no qualms telling you, we totally did it two times, and now we’re watching Tosh.0 in our underwear eating Special K out of mixing bowls because we’ve been out of dishwasher tabs for a week.

Happy back to school, y’all!

 

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