OK, enough mush...let's get to the title of this post.
Mishap 1: Beeps
While passing through Customs at the airport, I set off the metal detector like I was a slot machine on wheels. Of course I got pulled aside to get the manual 'wand detection' it went off on my head (earrings), my neck (obviously), my arms (duh), my waist (gotta hold those pants up) and at my ankles (that I can't explain).
At the hotel after a LONG day. Black Boyfriend Blazer - Necessary Objects available here (thanks Lily!) Tee, necklace and bangles - H&M. Jeans - Vigoss from Saks previously worn hereSide Note: Distressed jeans are great but seriously, everytime I fold my knees under me, the holes keep getting bigger. I'm convinced that at least one leg will turn into shorts....hopefully not while I'm wearing them.
Anyhow, after the Customs Officer was done with me. I got a look from S that said, "you should know better". I gave him back a look that said, "You should know better than to think I'd wear a tee sans accessories."
In all the commotion, for a *second* I misplaced my boarding pass and passport.
S gave me another look.
My handbag also had to go through twice...S decided to pack some Pringles in there - I guess they wanted to see what the *big cylinder* in my purse was.
Naturally, I shot S a look.
Mishap 2: More Looks and Bim + Bo
Misplaced my boarding pass and passport...again...this time for *2 seconds*, S lovingly shot me a look and politely asked, "Can you please turn the Bim off?"
Not 10 seconds later he did something silly, "Who's the BoBo now?" I asked.
We're even. Again.
Mishap 3: Third Time's a Charm
When we checked into the hotel, we hurried up to the room. It was perfect, until we saw 2 double beds.
Do we look like a couple that sleeps on separate beds? Don't answer that.
So we head back down. Together.
Ask for a room with a king bed.
Back up we go.
Perfect. We love this room.
Then we check out the bathroom.
S insists I take my shoes off.
Me: "No way. You think the cleaning lady takes off her shoes when she's in here cleaning???"
Me having forgotten to pack some slippers, S insists I just put on some socks.
Fine. All is well.
Until I wash my hands and feel something wet touch my right foot.
Me: "WHY is the floor wet???"
S checks around. S: "OH...the toilet....is leaking"
I have dirty toilet water on my sock=foot=ME!!! I die. And not in a good way.
Back down S goes. This time I stay back.
He gets us another room. Feeling a bit like Goldilocks and much anxiety (Toilet water outside of the toilet + ON MY FOOT = NOT GOOD) we check it out.
Finally, a room I can live with.
S heads off to his meeting.
I go wash my feet.
Almost 4 hours later, he comes to get me - his once full-of-life wife, who is now slowly starving to death. Curse him and his love for talking.
At the end of the night, after I've been fed and am much happier...
S says, "Thanks for coming, hon. I love when you're here."
And knowing full well he married the BIGGEST germaphobe, adds...
"Oh...and the *incident* with your foot...highlight of my trip."
I turned off the lights. And shot him a look. A dirty one. And not in a good way.
[via Google Images]