...No, I'm not talking about Max Ernst.
This weekend Alex and I helped his parents fix up a rental property they recently purchased. A house which is one street from the house Alex and I rented during our first year of marriage. A house which features the exact same floorplan as that rental.
It was like stepping back in time five years, only with better carpeting.
Alex worked there on Saturday while I was up at UNT, and yesterday I joined him (during the Day of Deluge) in tiling the kitchen backsplash with about 25 sf. of ceramic tile. I've got to say, I'm impressed with our work; we've tiled three floors together, but never a wall. We were both pleasantly surprised by the fact that it's much easier, there's no on-the-knees or back bending involved, the adhesive is easier to work with than mortar, and ceramic tile just cuts darned faster than granite. I am also proud to report that I figured out how to change out an outlet (by myself--no question-asking!) and promptly replaced about ten outlets in the house (by that time we ran out of new outlets to use).
Now I'm realizing that it's far less than a week before DC and Abilene, and that I have two trips to prepare for in far too little time. My errand list is frightening. One of the errands involves getting my bridesmaid dress (received in the mail Saturday) in for alterations before I leave--but before I can get it altered, I have to find a strapless bra for it. It fits my waist, but the thing is at least 6 inches too long (and its numerous flowy chiffon layers mean I can't hem it myself), and let's just say that in the chest area, it looks a tad... deflated. Being as the bodice is beaded, I'd rather not deal with the nightmare of having it altered, so off to Vickie's Secret it is.
Oh, the miracles they work.
Perhaps not so miraculous, then. Two hours of the frustrating humiliation of trying on strapless bras later, I have two extremely questionable candidates and the distinct desire to drive home and drown my sorrows in a tub of Dreyer's Slow-Churn Raspberry Chip Royale. I think perhaps I'm better suited to the part of flower girl than bridesmaid; at least I know those dresses fit.
Ah, well. I may have to stuff the bodice of both strapless bridesmaid dresses with two pairs of woolen socks, but at least they're gorgeous.