Let’s amend that to no motorcycle yet.
Building off of last week’s anniversary blog…
Consider this a sequel of sorts.
Sadist that I am, I simply can’t have a good time without conducting myself like a glutton for punishment.
On the morning of my anniversary, I started off the day by going to work.
I got off early enough for us to still get out and do things, I reasoned, so I didn’t really need to take the day off.
So I went to work.
And I sliced a gash in my leg on the corner of a cardboard box.
I probably should’ve stayed home.
But at least I arrived home to a nice surprise.
My husband had gotten me a portable Shiatsu massager.
I put that sucker to work as soon as I yanked it out of the box.
And used it nonstop throughout that afternoon and evening.
Which led to bruising myself from prolonged use as I attempted to work out the billion tension knots in my neck.
Which hasn’t stopped me from using it every single day for the last week.
With my younger son’s help and insistence, my son…uh, I mean, husband, received a lovely video game for our anniversary.
Need for Speed Payback.
Because nothing says Happy Anniversary like a racing game.
In my defense, my child and I wandered each and every aisle at Target ten times over while hauling an overflowing hand basket.
Which was equal to the weight of a baby elephant.
Because it was loaded down with a dozen bottles of açaí Vitamin Water that my child had tossed in.
And so we kept switching off basket-carrying duties as we continued to look for the perfect anniversary gift for the good part of an hour.
Somehow, we eventually settled on a PlayStation game as the perfect present.
At least my son…I mean, husband, has been thoroughly enjoying his new game.
Anyway, we didn’t actually make it out to dinner on our anniversary.
Because we decided to stay home and watch The Martian on Netflix.
So the following evening, we ventured into a nice little Italian restaurant we’d been talking about trying for the past couple of years.
And get this:
There were actual people in this restaurant!
And our waiter was not intoxicated!
Perhaps we should have asked the guy to quickly guzzle a few beers in an attempt to replicate our horrid seven-years-prior Greek restaurant anniversary experience?
We enjoyed some fried ravioli.
And homemade bread.
No greasy, slimy, rock-hard monstrosities whatsoever.
The bartender even made a little chocolate syrup heart in my chocolate martini.
It was undoubtedly one of our better anniversary dining experiences.
So that was nice, for a change.
Now, as for our first-ever motorcycle we’d been contemplating buying back?
Turns out the dealership’s asking price was much too high.
Almost as much as we had sold it for two years ago.
And so we put in a more reasonable offer.
Typical used vehicle over-inflation nonsense.
I guess there’s only one thing left to do:
Operation Steal Back Our Bike!
We do still have one spare key.
We could easily go in and get it back.
Just pop the key in and take off like bats out of hell.
Because then I’d have to change this post title to Dinner and Jail.
~Happy Saturday, friends! Have a great weekend!~