When I was younger, a lot younger, like still-rode-the-bus-to-school younger I went over to a friends house and found his parents drunk on the floor. In retrospect they were tipsy, not at all drunk, but my sheltered little brain didn’t understand that concept: you were either drunk or normal. And they were not acting normal. And yes, they were sitting on the living room floor with a bottle of wine between them, glasses in hand, giggling hysterically.
We both stopped and stared at them, wildly confused. “Umm – what’s the celebration?” one of us asked. At that moment, his mom said something that I would never ever forget.
“NEW COUCHES!!” She exclaimed, raising her glass in spirited celebration.
I remember thinking, what the heck?! Is she serious? Who gets THAT excited for new furniture?! I think we just kind of gave them the riiiiiight – crazy old people look and slowly backed away.
Fast forward 17 or so years to last night. I was sitting on the front porch waiting for my husband. I didn’t want to go in the house and see them first, I wanted us to see them together and share the experience. He finally pulled up, got out of his car, and we hurriedly unlocked the front door. Standing in the dark entryway we counted down together and then flipped on the lights.
AH! Oh my gosh! So beautiful! We love love love them!
We rushed to the fridge, grabbed plastic cups and made celebratory cocktails. We then planted ourselves firmly on the kitchen floor and giggled and toasted to our very own, totally awesome…
NEW COUNTERTOPS!! YAYY!
So, I guess I answered my childhood question of ‘who get’s that excited?’ and [hehe] it’s me! Just don’t tell the 13-year-old version of me, I don’t think I’ll be all that impressed with myself.