Sleep lost the argument, so the tub gets me tonight instead. Tell me you're still up too.
Sleep lost the argument, so the tub gets me tonight instead. Tell me you're still up too.
The Rockefeller tree rolls into town Saturday and I refuse to freeze through the whole thing, so the coat situation is officially in fitting. Too much scarf or exactly enough? You're coming to Meet the Tree with me, right?
Polls close any minute and I've claimed the whole couch for results night — the mug's full and the remote's not going anywhere. Come squeeze in before the first numbers drop?
Civic duty: done. The sticker refused to stay on the flannel, so it found somewhere else to live. Tell me you did your part too?
Day after the marathon and the medal is still on, because taking it off feels like admitting it's over. The legs have unionized and kitchen trips are the only approved activity — come make the second coffee?
Twenty-six point two miles are officially behind me and so are my legs. I've earned every inch of this horizontal — come help me not move?
Race kit is pinned and laid out, and the parade costume is hanging right behind it — tomorrow I run 26.2 miles, tonight I march. Pick which one you're showing up for.
The parade theme is Body & Soul, so I took it literally — the paint is the whole costume and it's still drying. Come do the back half before the lineup?
Bib's officially mine and the marathon expo has me two booths deep in shoes I absolutely don't need. Come be the voice of reason — or don't.
Big discovery: anyone in costume can march in the Village parade for free, so the headdress and I are officially doing Sixth Avenue ourselves. The rest of the outfit kind of dissolved along the way — you're coming to line up with me, right?