Some Kind of Wonderland

I had to shoot down a trip to Ikea (and it hurt to say no to that … it hurt A LOT) because we’re starting to freak out a little bit about finances and buying a stroller and diapers and paying for child care and still being rich enough to run the air conditioner this summer — all at the same time.

But that leaves tomorrow as a wide-open day. Dave’s got the day off tomorrow, and I’m not quite sure what we’re going to be doing. Dave seems to think we’re going to be doing something romantic or exciting or “a last hurrah” of some sort. Well. My “hurrah”ing days are pretty well on hold at the moment, and all I wanted for our fake Valentine’s Day was my trip to Ikea, so while thinking about all this on dinner break I got really depressed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m tired.” Which is true. I’m tired of thinking about money. I’m tired of snow and cold and Wisconsin. I’m tired of Oshkosh, or more specifically I’m tired of this house and being inside. I’m tired of how we spend our short time together. I’m tired of being cranky and tired and whiny.

Because no matter that it’s 7:30 p.m. and I’m in bed now … We’ll still be in bed at 9 a.m. Then we’ll get “hurrah”ing over groceries. Then we’ll pay bills. Do laundry. Clean the bathroom. Vacuum. Bicker over what’s for dinner. Feel guilty that dinner does not include a real vegetable. Feel worse because dinner ended with chocolate. Then it’ll be over, because it’s 8 p.m., and that’s bedtime.

OR.

Or maybe Dave’ll come home with an idea tonight and we’ll be inspired to actually spend our only day off together (that won’t be spent with his family or mine) this month doing something hurrah-able.

Because I don’t care that those things — the cleaning the bathroom, the laundry, the guilt over chocolate — are totally adult and what every couple does … I’m still 20-something. I require a little more entertainment occasionally than that.