We slept for 2 hours.  Flipped into muddy snakey water. Ate a mouthful of mustard. And bouldered on top of sugar loaf mountain.  #DClife  #questival #skuxlife #canwesleepyet

The Murphy Curse

For centuries, the universe has been perversely controlled by a scientific theory that dictates everyday function and routine.  This theory, or law rather, has solved many important worldly mysteries from the extinction of the dinosaurs to the assassination of Franz Ferdinand. Any attempt at repudiating this rationale has only resulted in regret. Eventually all doubters are inevitably resigned to accept this absolute reality.

No, it's not based on the formulas of Pythagoras or Pascal, and you don't need to be Descartes to understand the philosophy. Its discovery did not take centuries and we can assume that even cavemen recognized the validity. Is it obvious yet?

As the new official spokesperson and face of Murphy's Law, I'd like to take a moment to remind the world of its pervasive presence in all of our lives.

Went to MX over Thanksgiving!! The day it rained...the internet stopped working. #Murphy

Be assured, I am well qualified for this achievement and have been exacerbated many times by the irrevocable destiny of Murphy's Law.

In fact, Monday...I decided to bike to work in 20 degree weather and 14 mph wind.  Not bad, I thought on my way to work. I had already anticipated the freezing of my phalanges...and, nothing else worse happened - take that cavemen. However, Monday was not easily dealt with, as is typical for all, Mondays, days with deadlines, or Donald Trump candidacies. Leaving work on time presented no easy challenge.  Let's just say it was well past dinner ... but maybe before 9 when I finally left.  Still, that's okay. I had at least conquered the deadline!! And there is always a feeling of euphoria that comes with accomplishment! (Even Pascal would fist bump). 

Although it was late, I still didn't completely regret choosing a not so convenient and cold day to bike. I even remembered my headlamp.  BUT, the scene was set...it was late, cold, windy...and although I survived the minor hiccups of the day, the calculating adventures of Murphy's Law were just about perfect.  About 4 miles from work (of a 9.8 mile ride) I felt a flat. Yes. That was definitely the worst news of the day...but, I've learned a thing or two from previous encounters with Murphy's law and pulled out my hand pump...just, uhhh, no spare tube. Oh...

Although I also had a patch...let's be real...I only would use that if someone stopped and offered to help. (even in summer) 

Regardless, I really did not want to attempt changing a flat at 9:30 pm on the coldest and windiest night of the year. Who does that?

Confession: I decided it was just a cold weather fluke and instead of fixing my flat I could just magically pump it up and everything would be fine for the 2nd half of my journey home.  Cause that's totally the way life works. I managed to use my freezing fingers to pump my tire up and was soon pedalling once more... 1 more mile (almost)...because let's be real...it was a flat.

I'll admit, I actually had the thought...I should probably call my roommates to pick me up...But,  I struggle with being obnoxiously independent...and I did just bike another mile (almost...let's round up)...so, I just pumped it up again....and again...and again...until beleaguered and a half mile away I decided I would just rather walk. 

I know some biker enthusiasts out there are probably aware at how ridiculous that sounds...BUT...I am slightly ridiculous. And so is my official sponsor: Murphy's Law!
(at least I own up to my crazy...unlike Trump...or Putin.)

Anyways, a few other episodes that epitomize my success at living up to my Namesake. 

1.  That time I showered and flooded my house the morning of a party I was hosting.

2. The trip that took 9 cancelled flights to return home.

3. Or when I noticed my passport was missing before an international flight

4. Or once when I left my muddy running shoes out to dry but the next morning I discovered the neighbor's dog also likes to run with running shoes...and only recovered one...

5. And also relevant to biking, that time when even my backup Headlamp stopped working on a night Mtn Bike Ride in Tahoe. 

Anyways, Murphys are great - even despite our sometimes bad luck!!  

...or our sometimes instinctively bad choices...

"Never ascribe to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity." ~Hanlon

To all the parents out there...from a non-parent.

Dear world.

I do not have kids. (Written with a sigh of relief unbeknownst to any reader...)  But, children are just adorable mini people that haven't quite learned to cook yet, so they need some moral support and guidance until they've figured out how to not burn themselves when using the stove. Oh, and to poop.

I was privileged (is that an appropriate use of that word...) to provide that guidance to my super spunky 4 year old niece, Evelyn, and 18 month old nephew, Liam, over the weekend. I know many concerned people out there who were anxious for the future of these children besides their parents; so, to put their fears to rest, I shall share my savvy, sophisticated, and skillful parenting wisdom...because I have now advanced in parenting proficiency.

Getting ready to survive the weekend together!

First, I had to convince my sister and her husband to trust me. That was a feat and a half.  Mostly from previous history with their kids...yes, I adore them; BUT, back before I achieved elite parenting status, there were struggles.

My sister initially sent subtle hints that they might come visit. I offered to babysit, because I know parents never actually have any fun...unless you count watching frozen 3 times a week - living the life. And then things turned wild. It was their anniversary weekend and we did the math and realized they hadn't had a vacation since before their children were born. That's 5 years. Parent's know a little bit about sacrifice. As is also typical for most parents, they were forgetting how to relax and more importantly what fun is...well, now that I think of it, play-dough mustaches are highly entertaining...so retract at least the latter half of that statement.

Although they toyed with the idea of taking their kids, how many of you have had to travel with an 18-month-old who never sits still and thinks that seat belts are a sign that his parents don't love him? (NOT TRUE. It's just a matter of perspective and legal issues - good job, 1990s.) Yeah, sanity would diminish after a trip with him for sure.

Don't let these cute faces kid you...don't let these cute kids face you...

At first, they called off the trip all together thinking that Liam, who doesn't sleep well, would be too difficult for me to handle. (Nah...who needs sleep?) I put my foot down. And told them to "do something exotic." and encouraged them to let their kids drive me crazy for a weekend, since they are driven crazy 300 other days of the year.

We cuddled!! And mostly rolled all over eachother...but, we slept!

But, the father was a little harder to convince, referencing again past encounters with my pre-expert parenting self when my 2-week-old niece cried for lit-er-ally hours while I babysat her eventually sending me also to tears and a vow to never have kids. (admittedly...babies aren't easy. How many new parents confess they are done having children. But, once you survive the first few months, they grow on you again. And I swear - I'm fine. I can totally comfort any poor teething child within minutes...just please don't test me.)

I offered one last testimonial:
"I understand that kids are hard...and I know I have said about a dozen times (if not more) that I don't want kids...BUT, this will be good practice! I still love your kids...and I still want to make life easier for you." I urged them to take a break from their reality. AND then I pulled out the defense card and reminded them that even they get frustrated with their own kids and some days of being a parent. So, if getting frustrated with your children is unavoidable...why should they try to shield me from it. And for my closing argument:

"Life is hard anyway, if anything it will be an experience your kids and I will always remember...and can bond over the fact that we tried to have fun without you...and so what if we fail. At least we all gain a greater appreciation for you."

I'm pretty persuasive. AND, in the end, I won (or did I...no, we totally had a great time...and by great...I mean...no one died...and we all really appreciate the parents).

First...I had to make sure I had food. Most parents want their children to eat normal, healthy meals. SO, popcorn was out of the picture...Thankfully, Evelyn, my 4-year-old niece, provided me with a grocery list (Although, she should have been okay with my initial strategy of ice cream and chocolate...)  and said we could only eat ice cream after dinner. Whatever. kids these days. So, I pulled out the heavy pots and pans.

Breakfast fit for champions! 

The first guide to parenting: How to entertain your kids while cooking dinner:

GARLIC.  That's it!  Liam spent at least 30 minutes throwing cloves of garlic around everywhere...and jumping on it...and pounding it into the floor.  That is when I could get him from opening the garbage can and licking the bag...KIDS ARE SO GROSS. But...what doesn't kill you makes you stronger...Liam is probably the next Superman.

It's better if you just adopt the philosophy: the less you know - the easier it is to sleep at night. 

Although I tried to distract him from his wild ways...who knows how many other wickedly disgusting things he did hiding around the corner. (I can't be in 2 places at once...and i was still cooking dinner...is this why mac and cheese is so popular for parents?) Just to warn you, he almost actually does escape this adventure unharmed...

So, thanks to the garlic, dinners were made to please any parent...but, just not actually eaten. BONUS of having kids: You never have to cook yourself dinner....kids won't eat any of theirs, so help yourself to their plate instead!

OH, and of course, their favorite part is the cleanup! I mean, of course, we had no problems as I tried to quickly wash the dishes and wipe down the counters only to discover that little Liam's idea of cleaning was spitting out carrots all over the floor...piece by piece...until he finally had my attention as I saw the trail of orange pieces that followed him into the dining room. I think it was just a friendly reminder to sweep the floor as well.

 Second guide to parenting: Remodel your house in less than 30 minutes!!

It's exciting to go downstairs and into my bedroom to see that every drawer and shelf have been rearranged and reorganized while every jewelry box has been emptied. Dress-up is a perfect time to resort through my collection of shoes. Seriously, who knew kids could be so organized?

Admiring the sculptures!

The third guide to parenting: Radios exist to remind you that the world is perfect.

Maybe the kids are upset in the back of the car because they have to share a water bottle; or because they can't listen to their favorite song again, after the 4th time; or because I told them they can't have another package of fruit snacks until after dinner though they still haven't even finished the 2nd one in their hands. BUT, whenever any car tantrum begins...just turn up the radio and open the windows and have a little mini dance party...maybe they'll stop crying when the song is over...if not, maybe it's a hot hit - 10-song-in-a-row-super-playlist! Then just jam until they forgot why they were crying in the first place.

There's a whole lot of love!

.

Fourth guide to parenting: Parents actually drive kids crazy.

They’ll be perfectly fine all day…until the parents call…and then they’ll have an emotional break down to make you think they are miserable and their future lives have been ruined by this sudden betrayal and abandonment.  I have come to accept, and believe, that parents aren't really necessary.

But, having had a perfect weekend...carrying kids who didn't want to walk uphill, (we're not in Kansas anymore), and never losing shoes, or sippy cups, or toy cars...why did you drop it if you were going to cry as soon as it went out of view?  ...And definitely sleeping...some, we sat at the pier watching and waiting for mommy and daddy's plane to land. It was a perfect Sunday, the weather was beautiful and people were setting sail on sailboats all around us as we watched the planes come down over the Potomac!

this is literally Mommy and Daddy's plane!!

And after we saw the parental plane land, we decided we couldn't live another day without them and went off to reconnect. That's when tragedy happened...driving (that was me...Evelyn had a hard time reaching the pedals...) is hard when you are distracted by 2 toddlers in the back, so I went through the departure line and rather than drive around the airport, I asked mommy and daddy to meet us there and pulled out the kids to wait a few minutes. Of course they start touching everything and annoying Jet Blue ticketing/baggage agents and stepping in the way of impatient passengers. So, I was happy when they decided to climb back in the car. But, Liam apparently wanted to be in by himself and pushed Evelyn out. I turned around for THIRTY SECONDS to follow Evelyn and in the meantime, Liam decided he still wants to do everything she does...so he pushed himself out...but he still hasn't figured out gravity...so, he face plants the ground.

Thirty seconds later, parents emerge from a weekend getaway to a screaming, bleeding baby.

Sabotage!


I could have lived down the morning when Liam ripped off his diaper only for me to catch him just as he began to pee on the floor...and I spoiled Evelyn with a manicure, so she would have given me rave reviews...but, now all evidence suggests otherwise.

I'm just thankful that mommy was able to console this poor wounded soul.

Parents, bless you for all you do. Your children are fun...but, there aren't words to describe how exhausting it can be.  Thank you for your sacrifices to teach and love these charming little humans. We need a national holiday just for parents. (not separate...but in addition to what we do have honoring moms and dads...)

The responsibility you bear I'm sure is daunting, so thanks for taking it on! GOOD LUCK!!! You need it.  And a vacation.

at the zoo!! (This is where Eva stopped walking...)

Anyways, when you see this hunk of a man...know that he is indeed adored and loved...not abused.

Don't worry...It just looks like he's stuck...

Families, when done right, are a blessing! Sandra and Will, thanks for being an amazing example of righteous parents! 

The world is full of crazy people - yes I am one of them - but there are others.

The majority of my writing is done while I run.  Most likely because running is a time of reflection and enables me to organize my thoughts.  But, sometimes...it's because people are idiots.

There are only two reasons why a person would honk at a runner:

1.  Because runners are sexy.

we all know he's a runner...

2.  Because said honker is a disgrace to humanity and wants to annoy, irritate, scare, and aggravate said runner.  

Let's just get this clear.  There is no good time to honk at a runner.  (Unless they are running out in front of you and you are breaking the speed limit and have no control over your car and therefore because of YOUR idiocy you have to warn them about said idiocy and caution them to avoid aforementioned idiocy.)

Okay, so you want to appreciate a runner's sexiness. Fine. Do it. Drive by, and soak it all in. I do. There are many fine runners (and I don't just mean that they have good form...although they most likely do...really good form.) Basically, when you honk your horn. I'm more likely going to think you are honking for reason number 2. 

This is me running...pretty much every day. Man, SEXY!

Let me explain potentially what could happen when you honk for reason number 2 with a personal anecdote:  

I was having a great run.  I was at a comfortable pace and out for a comfortable distance.  I passed 5 miles and had over 1 mile left.  It was already dark (yes world, judge me...but I had big decisions I was making and I NEEDED TO RUN. AND I have a headlamp. (I hope you inserted the "I know what I'm doing" tone in that previous sentence. You can use it in the next one too with a little more sass.) And this time I avoided sketchy parks. And it was actually before midnight. My music stopped, which was great, so I could sort through all the crazy ideas in my head.

And yeah, it was dark...so I KNOW I was looking real sexy. (Headlamps, yo). I recently turned out onto a sidewalk that parallels a busy street and in very deep thought when all of a sudden a car snuck up and tapped their horn. But, NEWSFLASH. Even if you barely tap your horn, it doesn't just barely beep. It blares and blasts a cacophony of sound that startles even the sexiest of runners. I didn't just jump; I, as elegantly as possible with as much swanlike grace, tripped and fell in a chaotic mess of confusion trying  to maintain what composure and hope the previous 5 miles had wrought.

Sure, to the driving idiot who honked the horn, it might not have been that sexy. And maybe he even thought: how could someone so uncoordinated manage to run at all. BUT, his opinion became VOID as soon as he thought it was a good idea to honk. So, yes...Mr. License plate 366 YPO...okay, I didn't actually get your license plate. But, I know it had a 6 in it. Because in the south, 6 is satan. So, I'm really just assuming. ...and I actually don't even know what my license number is...I hope it doesn't have a 6...if it does, I'm changing it. 

Yes, you had your fun. But, what if I start running with eggs in my hand...and next time you honk I can chunk it at your car. Who will be laughing then? Okay, most likely you...again...because I'll probably end up with egg yolk all over me...

Sigh. Sometimes, we are just too sexy for our own good. 

He's still sexy...

Some people just may be innocent enough to honk for reason 1.5: If you are honking because you feel it's going to give me the motivation to run an extra mile, thank you. Please stop.

I decided morning runs are the best...and running before tourists is even better! (Also, why do tourists and terrorists sound so similar?)

Here is a collage of a few morning runs from the week, lemon tarts I eat without shame because I love calories, and I became legit #businesscards

The curse of being a klutz with fast reflexes

SO, Good news! I am a 2-wheeled commuter. 

My awesome roommate in Taiwan shared stories of her adventures biking to work in DC and I always envied her paved trails and easy access. GUESS WHAT. Now the world should be envious of me.  But, not really...I'll explain later.

This is what I imagined...

When I moved to DC and started working, it was the first thing I thought of.  AND I was ecstatic to learn I had access to a gym with a lovely locker room so I could pretend that I don't sweat! 

Regrettably, I don't live in the most convenient part of town.  But call it courage or just crazy, I am persistent and decided I would take the 11 different roads and 4 trails that eventually equal 14 miles to get me to work.  Thank goodness for google maps.  BOO FOR TRAFFIC.  For about half the ride I'm on a legit bike trail, so it's heavenly.  But, the other 7 miles ... It's okay, I rode a bike through Bangkok and Cambodia...they barely have roads...I can handle this.

I was biking when I took this picture...(SEE, I'm somewhat coordinated...)
but, these two girls were holding hands, and it was precious!
I <3 Cambodians!!

However, today I almost died.

Let me angle through my brush with death...actually it was a brush with an idiot...they can kill you.
Today, I was within 100 feet of my destination...which meant I had biked basically 14 miles already - safely, also means I had biked somewhere around 70 miles since Monday with no other threats...not even a dog. (I needed a car on wednesday, so i drove, but 3 days out of 4 is a good start!)

However, after riding 14 miles (remember, I wasn't even sweating) and passing through my last intersection using an actual crosswalk that even had a handy countdown which signalled that I had the right of way for another 36 seconds, I kissed the zebra.  Although I still played it safe, when I saw a nice truck signal that he would wait for his turn, I decided I could trust him and clipped in; crucial detail...I have clipless pedals ...logically, this makes no sense because I actually clip my shoes to the pedals...but, whatever...it's like wondering why we call a pen a pen (which I did until 6th grade...and never got it...)...but...the bigger problem is that once clipped in, my feet are secured to the bike, yay when you are pedaling up hill!!!  nay when you crash. WHICH IS WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.  While I swiftly pedal across the crosswalk, another F450 (WHY DO YOU NEED A TRUCK IN ARLINGTON?  YOU. ARE. NOT. A. COWBOY.) BARRELS through.

Um. CUTE!

Good news, I have tiger like reflexes.  Bad news, I am a super big klutz. Put those together, I managed to stop before getting run over, but I didn't unclip and kind of bounced my way to the pavement. I'm sure it would have been hysterical if it didn't hurt so much.  And I could care less about the bruises and scraped knees.  BUT, I somehow managed to bruise my rib - as only a klutz could - and now laughing and basically breathing are completely out of the question.

Not going to lie...I might have sworn...it's a good thing I'm not Muslim...since Ramadan started last night...and I would have broken it day 1. (Did you know that cursing is forbidden especially during Ramadan!)

So, I've learned that I laugh more than I realized throughout the day. That's good. Except now, I don't really want to laugh.  Isn't that Murphy's Law?

Anyways...I suppose I'll have to keep jumping through hoops until all wannabe cowboys finally realize they should just move to Russia. Russians love cowboys.

Hey, Putin! let's be friends...but, I'm kind of a klutz...

One Way

So, last week I took a bus up to NY for a job interview.  I also visited some amazing friends from Ukraine on the side because I have a habit of not doing anything unless I can make it 10x more complicated and fun! (also should include popcorn or chocolate)

Anyways. The interview was great and I would be amiss if I didn't say it was a great opportunity.  ...I'm not going to tell you anything about it…because.  (yes, I have a 4 year old niece and this is usually how I answer all questions…)

After the interview I had a few hours to kill (I'm not sure if I have actually used this phrase, but a Georgian friend reminded me about it...and I'm totally down with murdering time) So, I decided to do what all crazy tourists typically do whilst in NYC for a few days: run in central park. I mean if I was contemplating a move...I should test it out.

It was a little rainy, so the park actually seemed kind of desolate. WHICH IS AMAZING. I mean, hello, I'm in downtown Manhattan in one of the most famous parks in the world and I barely even saw a pigeon. 

So there were other runners...and walkers and bikers. However, they were all going the opposite direction that I was. At first I didn't notice anything…but, then I started to feel like people were uncomfortable as they ran by me…I was pretty sure I was clothed correctly, so what was their problem? And then I had this thought…no one else has been running, walking, driving, or biking this way.  

And then I saw the one way signs.  Aren’t those just for cars?  And don’t runners usually run in the opposite direction of traffic?  I was totally fine.  But, then I started to wonder.

AM I REALLY GOING THE WRONG WAY.

Am I committing a major cultural faux paux in downtown NYC in front of the 7 pigeons I did see and a couple dozen complete strangers and their dogs that I will most likely never run into again?

pigeons in Ukraine - by Masha!!

Perhaps because I was contemplating a major life decision and I wanted direction, I began to feel a little uneasy.

However, I then tried to use some reason (I know, that’s usually a bad idea….)   I was surprised that amidst all the chaos of this great city, there seemed to be order and unity...and I didn't know what to feel...since I was actually breaking it. 

Yet, I've run in at least 15 countries and I have never been told the direction in which to run. (although, in some cases, I would have appreciated it…specifically in Thailand when I could have died like 6 times…trust me, I was safer petting the Tiger than running)

So, then I just got this feeling and thought...I'm in new York.  They can't tell me what to do. I run to free myself and my thoughts. I won’t accept their rules. So what, if it draws attention. My experiences have taught me better than following the crowd and to appreciate differences whether in opinion or direction.

AND that’s how I got my answer.  I was going the wrong way. I was already happy in DC. And despite the opportunity, I did not want to fall into a system of habit and convention, doing things because it’s popular with the masses.  I mean, I haven’t been living that way most of my life…so why start now?

Thus, I'm ready to announce to the world - that I started a job in DC. Perhaps making my conscience cry a little...but, in the end, I have some great running and biking trails that I will never regret!

all around central park is 7.5 miles

I had a beautiful run on a portion
of the Mt. Vernon trail = 15 miles 

I can only run the same 7.5 miles so many times before I get bored...even in Manhattan.

And...then there is the absolutely ridiculous video that reminds me of my grad school roommates - 

I THREW IT ON THE GROUND.

(warning: followers a little less faint of heart...

don't watch...especially past 2 min.)

"I'm an adult...you can't buy me, hot dog man."                                 "Happy Birthday to the ground."

 SHOUTOUT!! (TINA'S GETTING MARRIED!)

Crazy Couch Hoarders in DC

I don't think I have ever promised to keep people updated, because I don't like breaking promises.  But, if you missed it...I just moved to DC.  Well, technically Alexandria, VA but I am hoping to find a job in DC like dog-sitting - preferably Bo, Obama's Portuguese water dog, and then he'll see what a trustworthy and responsible person I am and will ask me to be his new bodyguard (aren't they hiring?).  Gotta have options, guys (that's my only one right now...but, I'm still working on it).

Dude...I live here...well not there, but kind of close!

Anyways.  Moving is a big deal.  You sometimes need stuff (at least toilet paper) but I only had my car so, I filled it up with other life things, decided to buy/borrow toilet paper as needed, and headed across the country.  It was a splendid trip with a brief stop in Knoxville, Tennessee. (Does anyone else think Mississippi and Tennessee had a competition for who could be most repetitive?).  There was a civil war special exhibit and we totally saw Abe Lincoln!  Apparently he was fond of the south? (hmm, my recollection of history must be a little foggy)

If there was a sexiest man alive back in the 1800s, pretty sure Mr. Abe would win...

But, once I finally arrived in the beautiful state of VA, I decided I should probably actually use the room I was renting and somehow acquire the 'essentials' instead of just sleeping on my roommate's couch.

THANK YOU CRAIGSLIST!!  I wish I could tell you about the exciting people I met whilst on my own adventure and the crazy truck rental and the first time where a lack of elevators caused an existential life crisis making me question the reality of life.  But, then you would miss the story about how my roommates and I ended up with 5 couches.

I will preface this by saying, I adore my roommates!  However, one girl will soon be moving and that's sad for so many reasons, one of which (and this is definitely at the bottom of the list) is that she owns both sets of EXTREMELY COMFY cute and cozy cuddling-worthy couches.  (The only reason why I actually got a bed was because her couches would be gone at the end of the month...)

So, since I had rented a big truck to haul stuff, my roommates and I decided to find a couch as well.  AND we did!! (again...we totally hit up craigslist. And for all of you who are judging, your scorn means nothing to me.) It was perfect and fluffy and classy and would make a nice replacement and It was ours!  Until the day of our scheduled pickup when the girl messaged back replying that a misunderstanding caused her roommate to give it away to a friend.  C'est la vie. 

WELL, thankfully there were about 200 trillion other couches (yes - many of them even free).  AND we got busy (this was already past 9:30 pm).  Mostly because we ONLY had the truck for a limited time, so we messaged every couch owner that seemed to be disease-free hoping that we would get at least one perfect stranger whose schedule was conducive to ours and would gladly let us come even at midnight if we had to so that we would have a couch to call our own.  We probably sounded more desperate than we actually were...but it worked.  By 11:30 pm we had an appointment to pick up a couch at 7:15 am.

By 6:30 the next morning (yes, we woke up at 6 am to acquire said couch) we had two additional invitations to retrieve couches from garages and porches.  They weren't the best options, but we wanted something for our guests to sleep on when they come visit! (AND YOU WILL COME VISIT!)

First couch - we had no picture, so we stopped by at 0650 to stalk couch on front porch.  It was red it wouldn't do, so we left it and went further.

Second couch - we committed to pick up at a comfy cozy couch at 0715, although it wasn't our favorite, when it's Free...you take what you can get.  We met a cute little family preparing for their day as their 2 year old daughter, eating cheerios, watched us carry a couch out her front door.  I think even she could tell we were crazy...just walking off with her couch.

Third couch - the picture actually looked nice, so we thought we have 2 couches to replace, we can get 2 couches.  We arrived at the garage at 0820 and notified a man named Al of our presence.  But, upon inspection of the couch, we realized it was just mediocre...and tried to hide our disdain as Al dug through the trash to find the legs (that's totally normal, our disdain was most likely for the couch).  We felt obliged and decided to load it up as well, hoping we could clean it up and hide it in our basement.  At least it came with what looked like a comfy mattress...and maybe after our fairy godmother graced it with a wave of her magic wand, we could invite even more friends to visit!  (So, When are you coming??)

BAHAHA!! Sorry, just ironic...I do need a job, you know... ;)

It was about this time when we were breaking our backs lifting this sucker into our truck (no, Al did not help us, although he did cut us some slabs of wood to put under the sofa, since his efforts at dumpster diving were in vain), that we received a new notification.

Once loaded and enroute back home, I checked and squealed!  Our dream couch, not the first one that stood us up, but an even fancier, bigger - perfect for collecting popcorn kernels, loose change, and random socks - better couch was available for us to pick-up at our convenience.  Wiping the sweat off our brows, my roommate and I looked at each other and agreed that we had to have it.  Surely there were other couch hunters that could relieve us of our surplus.

don't worry, we did not get this couch...

However, we needed room in our truck especially since, the owner of this perfectly plump couch warned us about 27 times that this was heavy and bulky.  BUT, we were experts by now and cast all concern to Canada, where they could use a few more things to worry about now that winter is over...maybe?

0900 we started unloading the previously acquired cushions and couches into our backyard, hopefully hiding them from our neighbors who complain even if we set the trash out 10 minutes early.

It was also that time where the previous 200 trillion couch owners on craigslist started to reply.  GUYS.  We could start our own couch garden.  We were overwhelmed, but knew we had to focus.

1045 ish we rolled into a gated complex (only people who own awesome couches could live there) and found the 3rd floor apartment (yes we were warned, but we had basically just started our own moving company).  I love stairs.  This was one time, where going up was so much more fun than coming down.  OH MY GOSH, another existential crisis ensued as I imagined I was dating superman so he could carry me on the couch down the stairs. Sigh. That is not my life. (yet...)  Once we got half of the couch down stairs...yeah, we are beasts...or just crazy...admittedly, we started with the lightest pieces, we rolled and dragged and pushed all the others out into the balcony to wait until we felt ambitious enough.  But, we didn't.

We were defeated.  The last 2 sectionals were made out of plutonium.  Thus, we went on a search for superman, although even Gaston would suffice at this point.  No lie.  It was a bustling complex with what seemed like a plethora of burly men out ready to work.  After walking around for a couple minutes, we found such man with beautiful eyes, also struggling to retrieve a ginormous deluxe mattress out from a garage.  We approached and brilliantly offered to exchange help for help!  (at this point, we would have just kissed him for help). He benevolently accepted and instantly became our hero.  We walked him over and up as he courageously took on the challenge.  He shall be praised for his determination because after some intense lifting, dragging, pulling, maybe some swearing, and a lot of sweating we succeeded in loading our 3rd couch into our truck.

We also invited him to join our moving company, but since we only had the truck for a few more hours and he was also becoming a renowned sous chef at the one and only Oyamel in DC, we decided instead to enjoy a wonderful Mexican dinner next week, where we can again thank Kevin for his kindness!

SO, our logic, incase you struggle to interpret crazy: we only needed one couch; but our favorite couch didn't become available until we already had two inferior couches in our possession. We weren't trying to become couch hoarders, it just happened in our attempt to obtain the perfect couch.

Okay.  There were definitely more details excluded, but it was definitely an adventure of epic proportions and couches.  Now, we have a couch for each roommate...and still one to share. Hopefully this week someone will be as desperate as we were and come to claim those we can live without...if we can...
MEANWHILE, who is coming to party on our couches?

This post is brought to you by Lysol, Budget Truck Rental, and a nifty red vacuum cleaner.