Midnight Rooftop Adventures

Alternately titled: Reason number 5,362 that my husband should never be left unsupervised. Especially at night.

What up moonpies!? Certainly nothing since I last blogged, right? Honestly, what could possibly go down in a measly four months? Maybe your life is different, but mine has been super uneventful. Just: closing on our first house, Thanksgiving, unexpected two week hospital stay, moving into aforementioned new house (with as much grace as a pack of blind/deaf sled dogs), Christmas, Yanke visit, New Year, Valentines, and Saint Patty's.

Happy 2013 Y'all. I suck. Whatever.

How about I make it up to you with an awesome story about my careless husband and his special needs dog, mkay??

The first thing you need to know is that Nate has the most obnoxious work schedule ever. He never works more than TWO days in a row, before he gets a day off. Ass hole corporate America goon. This really isn't important, except that it irritates the ever loving fire out of me that he gets to stay up late/sleep in EVERY Wednesday and Thursday. Rude.

Moving right along. Cue Wednesday night. Mr. "ha ha it's my Saturday and I'm gonna stay up late and play video gamesssss" is doing a stupid happy dance as I drag my butt to bed. Annoyed.

Ya'll, what happened that night, I couldn't make up even if I day drank tequilla and did a head stand. He calls me FRANTIC the next morning on my way to work. Heavy breathing and all. And this is the story he tells me:

"So I was playing Xbox. And Lady had to pee. And I didn't want to go alllll the way downstairs (*insert eye roll here*) so I just let her out on the rooftop deck. Anyway, there was this zombie I was killing and all the sudden I heard something above my head. I thought it was just the surround sound so I ignored it. Then I remembered about the dog, so I opened the door to let her in...and she was GONE.

*heart stops* *I envision mass paranoia as I report to the authorites that my handicapped, common sense impared pitbull is now on the loose*

Nate continues: So I walk all the way to the edge of the railing, and turn back towards the house, and I find her... ON THE ROOF. And I quote, "like the SANTA part of it!!!" (translation: the very top).

THE ROOF YA'LL. Dog. On the roof. Husband. In his underwear, yelling at said dog. At midnight.

Me? Laughing so hard invisioning all of this that I choke on my chocolate milk. Don't start with me. 26 year olds can drink chocolate milk for breakfast. It's very hipster. Now pay attention!

Ridiculous story short, he climbed over the railing, picked her up, and carried her back to the safety of the deck. The dog and my half naked husband both survived with no injuries. Except to their pride, because I obviously ridiculed him to no end, and then blogged about it. Wife of the year, I know.

Marriage is awesome. I can't wait to embarass our future children together.

Always,

L

P.S. Dear neighbors: relax. We will get the hang of this grown up thing one day or another. We're here to help God teach you patience. You're welcome.