So I'm back. It was a wonderful, successful weekend. Successful because my dear friends Erin and Alan got married. Successful because I didn't trip while walking down the aisle. Successful because I was a fabulous bridesmaid (if I do say so myself). Successful because I got home, and Jordan hadn't broken, burnt, or bruised anything.
"I'm glad you're home," he said as we were falling asleep last night.
Good, I thought. I should hope you would miss your wife.
"I enjoyed living the bachelor life for a while," he continued. "I liked throwing off my flip flops and leaving them in the middle of the living room. I liked not shutting the door to pee. I liked eating whatever and whenever I wanted. I liked brushing my teeth and not putting the toothpaste back in that little basket."
Then he got serious.
"But I'm glad you're home," he said again. "I'm out of cereal, and I'm starting to run out of chips. The kitchen is dirty, the bread is moldy, I don't have any clean clothes to wear to work tomorrow, and last night I skipped dinner and made myself sick eating puppy chow."
Ah yes, the bachelor life.
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