Yesterday, I was laying on the couch, fervently plugging away at my website while enjoying some delicious Valentine's chocolates that K had given me, when suddenly I looked down and realized that I had chocolate ALL OVER ME. Like not just a smear or two. A 2-inch square of melted chocolate welded to my beautiful new stark white northface that K had gotten me for Christmas. Also, the entire underside of my chin was covered in my melty Valentine's treats.
K is like Nostradamus. He knew this would happen. That's why he got me 2 northfaces for Christmas, one black and one white. The white one was supposed to be for non-chocolate activities. Fail.
There's a reason he knew this would happen: I'm the messiest person on the planet. No, seriously. If I had a meal-to-spill ratio, it would be 1,000,000. Or .000001. I don't know, I'm really bad at math. But it would be huge. Because literally not a meal goes by that I don't spill all over myself.
There was one night when I was sitting on the couch with S & J (sister and her bf) watching TV. It was after Thanksgiving, so we were eating leftover pie with a mound of whipped cream on top. I went to cut a piece of pie off with my fork and... wait for it... flipped the ENTIRE PIECE OF PIE, whipped cream and all, onto my chest. It just stuck there. And I made a pouty face. My sister (such a sweetheart, that one) took PICTURES, while I laid there all pouty with a plate of pie stuck to my chest.
Another night, I was eating a brownie fudge sundae (we love our desserts in this house), just hangin' with Bedtime Bear on the couch, when I looked down and realized I had smeared chocolate all over my bear's face. S & J were witness to this as well. They know all of my dirty secrets.
K and I have already agreed that at our wedding we're going to wear those plastic bibs that you get when you eat lobster at a fancy restaurant. All night. I want the ones with the cartoon lobster on them, too.
I will tell you this, though-- by the time we have kids, I'm going to be a laundry EXPERT. No grass, chocolate, or even poop will survive my washing skills, because I have been carefully trained by the most savvy of masters: K. He has taught me everything he knows, and last night he coached me on the phone as I did CPR on my northface under the most stressful of conditions. Thank goodness K stays calm under pressure, because I thought I was going to have a breakdown.