I had a camp recap (PS, why haven't I been calling them "recamps" all this time? DAMN IT.) post all ready to go, and then I somehow closed out all of my photos without saving them, so then I cried, and now here it is 9:00 on a Wednesday evening and I have nothing to show for it. So, here are some feelings and emotions.
First of all: Today the police came over for a little visit, because I walked through the house from the back porch to the front porch to check the mail, and the front door was wide open. Which it never is. Ever. So, like every dumb girl in every dumb movie, I grabbed the knife from my desk -- the exceptionally dull one I use to open mail, because I am smart -- and went to CHECK THINGS OUT. And that was when I heard the back door slam shut. OH OKAY THAT IS NOT SCARY HI I AM PUSHING THE POLICE PANIC BUTTON ON THE SECURITY SYSTEM NOW AND HAVING ALL OF THE FEELINGS.
Y'all, the police came! And they were very nice! And they walked into my house with their guns drawn! And they yelled, "MONROE PD!" And it was all very exciting/scary and there was no one in the house and nothing was missing, so that was good. Except now I would like a lobotomy.
Also: Next week I am getting in my car and driving to Washington, DC, to live there, because long-distance relationships suck, and I am having one right now, for, oh, eight-ish months or so? Just thought I would mention that. So... what's the deal with DC? Do you live there? Do you like it? Do you want to be my best friend?
I have some thoughts about moving: 1. I'm really sad to leave my house, and the people/animals inside of it. 2. I'm excited to see what life is like outside of Monroe. 3. Can I hire someone to parallel park for me? 4. I am concerned about the seafood situation. 5. I do not own any pantsuits.
Other concerns: What are the best neighborhoods? Where are the cutest places to get coffee? How does one use the Metro? Do you call it the Metro, or some secret slang term like "the trainway"? I need to know these things, because in Louisiana we get mad if you don't understand how we say "muffuletta," or "Tchoupitoulas."
Most importantly: We are keeping the house, so don't be trying to get all up in my front door and get your mitts on our belongings.
PS: Hank, the alleged Rottweiler, did not bark once. Not even when the policemen were all trolling the house, looking for intruders. He was all, "Hello! Would you like a tour? I can show you some very nice wallpaper here in the hallway!" Jerk.
To recap: Our home contains no burglars. Security systems are awesome. I am moving to DC. Hank is dumb.