I want you back

Forty days and forty nights.

No, I’m not making a Biblical reference. That’s how long Scott and I have been shacking up with the in-laws.

But tomorrow morning, it all comes to an end. The time has finally come to move into our new condo.

Our extended stay in Saint Cloud has actually been quite enjoyable. I feel at home here, despite the fact that I can’t go to the bathroom with the door open or drink coffee in my underwear.

Oh, come on. Everyone knows coffee tastes that much better when you’re only wearing underwear. Especially if you’re sprawled across the couch and watching Regis and Kelly.

So why am I so excited to get out of here?

Simple. I want all my crap back.

Since January 28th, Scott, Jolie and I have been living out of two measly suitcases.

The rest of our junk remains in this guy’s trunk.

ABF moving trailer

Unpacking this bad boy tomorrow is going to feel like Christmas. It always amazes me how after a few weeks in the old storage trailer, you forget about all of the old friends you carefully tucked away in cardboard boxes and bubble wrap.

There’s nothing better than being pleasantly surprised by the pineapple slicer you’ve had for two years, but completely forgot about, or gasping with glee upon remembering that you are the proud owner of the Risky Business twentieth anniversary commemorative DVD.

Christmas, I tell you.

I’ve been wracking my brain all week, remembering which “goodies” I’ve missed the most. I’ve devoted so much time to this particular activity that I’ve actually come up with a list:

The Top FIve Things I Can’t Believe I Went 40 Days Without.

1. My Wardrobe

If you couldn’t tell by the lacklustre outfits on my fashion page, I’ve literally been dressing out of a single suitcase for the past month and a half. That means two pairs of jeans and one pair of boots.

For forty days.

I know, right?

It’s gotten so bad, I can’t even remember all of the shoes in my collection.

Forgetting the faces of all of your shoe friends is one thing. (Yes, my shoes are my friends. We have tea parties and everything.)

Only remembering to pack one pair of pajamas is quite another.

Footie pajamas

So yes, I’ve spent the last 40 days prancing around the house in the adult sized romper that started out as a joke for a Christmas party, and has ended up being the sweaty, humiliating, bane of my existence.


2. My coffee maker

This year for Christmas, my brother Janss gifted me a Tassimo Single Cup Coffee Brewing System. It just may have been the best Christmas present ever.

Tassimo coffee maker

Photo via Tassimo

Until I realized it would cost me no less than $90 to purchase a month’s supply of custom coffee pods.

But I didn’t let that stop me. Anyone who follows this blog knows that with me, coffee is more important than family (sorry, Mom). Ninety dollars is a small price to pay for the exhilaration that comes with preparing a single cup of perfectly brewed morning joe.

The fact that I’ll drink at least four individually prepared cups each morning, making the single-cup concept utterly pointless, is obviously irrelevant.

The fact that I’ll be enjoying them in my underwear while shamelessly guffawing at the wittiness of Regis Philbin? Also irrelevant.

These glorious designer coffee pods arrived a few days before we left Seattle. I ripped the box open like an overly-agressive six-year-old and rushed to the kitchen, only to discover my beloved Tassimo had been packed a few days prior.

Why Scott picked this one instance to be responsible and accomplish a task ahead of schedule is beyond me.

Also beyond me? Why the Tassimo had been packed while the bread maker I haven’t used in four years sat smugly on the counter, taunting me.

For forty days I have thought about that Tassimo. And tomorrow morning? I’m going to have my coffee and drink it too. I’m also going start storing all of Jolie’s dog food in that pompous little bread maker. You know, just to show him whose boss.



3. My PUSH Book

PUSH by Chalene Johnson

Photo via Amazon

What’s the one thing I love more than Turbo Kick?

Self-help books. 

I actually want to write a self-help book someday. Although I don’t suspect people are willing to pay for advice from someone who thinks cupcakes are a food group and has night sweats in her footie pajamas.

So yeah, I’ve got some kinks to work out, but once I’ve got my life together you’d better watch out. “Hurricane Katrina: Surviving the Storm” is going to be a bestseller.

I just know it.


Chalene Johnson–motivational speaker, fitness guru and creator of Turbo Kick came out with her own self-help book at the end of the year.

Oh you’d better believe I was on the pre-order list.

PUSH arrived in the mail on the same day as my Tassimo coffee pods. Against my better judgement, I decided to pack the book with the rest of my belongings that were headed for the storage trailer. That way I would have something to look forward to reading once we settled down in Small Town.

I realized all too late that tagline of the book is “30 days to Turbocharged Habits, a Bangin’ Body, and the Life You Deserve.”

So basically, if I hadn’t packed the stupid book, I would have achieved a bangin’ body and the life I deserve ten days ago.

4. My Apple TV

When we left Seattle, I was half-way through season three of Mad Men on Netflix.

This one’s pretty much self-explanatory.

5. My File Folder

Which happens to contain all the paper work I need to do my taxes.

Correction. All the paper work I need to have someone else do my taxes.

You know, so I can get my refund.

And buy more coffee pods.

It’s a vicious cycle, people.



The votes have been tabulated! It was a close call, but you selected Bossypants by Tina Fey.

Bossypants Tina Fey

Photo via Amazon

So go forth and be bossy!

And also, you know, read the book.

Leave your review on the Facebook Page and I’ll include it with my “official” write up at the end of the month!


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