it's the most wonderful time of the year in 2013-2014

FOOTBALL STARTED TODAY. I HAVE WATCHED FOOTBALL ALL NIGHT. I GOT A CHILL WHEN USC KICKED OFF. EVERYTHING IS MAGICAL AND SILLY AGAIN.

Last night’s dinner project was buffalo chicken lasagna. This is a good recipe, but, warning, it does not make enough chicken. I used a pound and had a hard time making it to two layers. I had to fluff up the remnants with extra cheese, butter, and milk in order to spread it. We also thought it was rather lacking in real cheese, so we diced up some white cheddar sticks that Micah wasn’t eating and all together, it was great! So if you make it, seriously double down on the cheese and add more cheddar. Luke came over to partake and brought wine, and it was a good night. My improv skills with the cheese additions pretty much deified me. There were no leftovers.

Tonight, Aimee had given us flyers from her chiropractor for a ‘come hear me talk and get a free steakhouse dinner’ event. I RSPV’d us this afternoon; Aaron’s lower back is regularly referred to as Rice Krispies, and my shoulder has been jacked up pretty bad. It’s better today, but yesterday it was screaming something about pinched nerves. So we were fairly interested in something that did not require medical insurance but could help.

As it turned out, I watched the beginning of the South Carolina game and headed to Aaron’s at 6:30. Dinner was at 7. I didn’t bring my phone because random fraud numbers were calling constantly. As I drove, Charleston Southern was playing football and traffic the opposite side was backed up. FOOTBALL. At Aaron’s, the door was locked. 15 minutes of knocking later, no one was answering. I knew he was home, because I saw his car, but he was taking a nap. Because of traffic, there was no point in going home for my phone. I went back around and started throwing my flipflops at his second-floor window. Then his phone went off and he woke up. He let me inside wearing only his boxers, apologizing profusely, embarrassed, and out of sorts from oversleeping. It was 6:56. He felt, really, really, really bad.

I let it go, because it really wasn’t that big of a deal, and he hadn’t locked the door (Aimee had, on her way to class). But he just felt like a giant failure and my giant reasonableness only frustrated him more. Eventually, as he pulled on clothes, he yelled my name; I yelled his right back. “What did we lose? Not not-get, but what did we lose?” “…Nothing.” “Exactly.” And then he kind of let it go, but kept talking about making it up to me. He does that a lot. He only forgave himself after the pizza arrived and we discovered that he gets a sports channel that I do not. So then we had a brief moment of roommates keep score. Dysfunctional married couples keep score. We are on the same team, so we are not keeping score, not even against yourself.

This isn’t new, exactly. When we first started dating, he beat himself up for everything. If I was even remotely unhappy with something he had something to do with, he flinched like a beaten puppy. We worked through that (and the personality change, the self-confidence, was amazing). So this is… probably just more of the same. He’ll try and slowly knock it off with the I-feel-like-I-disappointed-you-despite-everything-you-say-and-do-so-now-I-owe-you-something. I have no doubt that there are some things that he actually should make up to me, but oversleeping after a lousy, grueling week at work and causing us to miss a free dinner that probably had strings attached is not one of those things.

So anyway, it was a lovely night full of cuddles, football, and handheld video games, and we scandalized Aimee and nearly made her spray her drink through her nose, so it was a nice night overall. I’ll take it. (I also got to take the leftover pizza and cookies home.)

There was also a hilarious moment when some sister missionaries knocked on the door. Aimee answered wearing gym shorts and a sports bra, and I was in the process of pulling a bottle of wine out of the fridge. We are classy, classy people.