Girls Gone Wild in the OT

My parental guidance counselor, XFE is out of town for work this week, leaving Petunia and I to fend for ourselves once again. So, there’s been a lot of this:

And this:

And this:

Actually, that last one is a big, fat, wishful creamy lie. Because even though XFE was also out of town for work last week, he breezed in on Friday and made a fantastic dinner for a small dinner party we had on Saturday night. He made two beer can chickens on the Big Green Egg, while I made a chili-lime roasted butternut squash salad, and we collaborated on a lemon-dill ice cream.

We also got oysters. Did you know that you can have them shuck oysters for you at Whole Foods? And they put them on a tray with ice for you and everything. Pretty nifty. It’s a discovery that’s  about to revolutionize all our months with an “r” in them, I can tell you that much.

Since we drank multiple, hangover-inducing bottles of wine and champagne (my brain was trying very hard to escape my skull all day Sunday), there was plenty of chicken left over to eat throughout the week. (Petunia also had a hangover on Sunday. Too many catnip-tinis.)

After XFE bailed on us, we spent MLK/inauguration day away from any form of fermented adult beverages and focused instead on staying warm in the plummeting temperatures and Arctic winds. I am chilled to the bone, despite the fact that I’ve raised the temperature in the house up to a non-XFE approved 72 degrees. But try as I might, I cannot get warm. Especially my feet.  I’ve been making hot tea like it’s Downton Abbey up in the shizz.

The cold weather is also causing my house to make very creepy, scary, strange noises. I woke up at least 8 times last night CONVINCED that someone had somehow broken into the house in order to try to get with my freezing cold feet. (I’ll take ‘Strange Noises’ for $50, Alex.)

And they may or may not be scaling the roof to get to these ice-cubes-that-need-a-pedicure. Or trying to get in through the bathroom ventilator vents. Or running their hands along my bedroom wall behind our headboard. And scratching on the downstairs windows. Or making the floorboards creep. Let’s just suffice it to say, it was not a restful first night.

(Also: I discovered this morning that my coffee creamer had gone bad and since I had already made coffee, I thought I’d try to use almond milk instead. Newsflash: Almond milk is not the same as creamer. Not. At. All. So if this would-be creepy-house-roamer is reading this, please put some creamer in my fridge. And I don’t mean that in some sexual way. Seriously. Creamer. Low fat, if you can swing it).

Crap like this right here below doesn’t help with my nerves. That’s my tension shower rod on the floor in my bathroom. We know how to party up in here.

Petunia is embarrassed by my jumpiness. And lame partying skills.

“Don’t worry: I will protect you with my scary glow eyes.”