Wouldn't it be hilarious if I woke up on my birthday to the sounds of Chris quickly moving around downstairs and snuggled into the covers while thinking "I really don't want breakfast this early, but I'll need to act happy when he serves me" and then Chris appeared at the foot of the bed a few minutes later and announced "We have a huge problem"?
It turns out, I really am an ant and the universe is an 8-year-old boy with a magnifying glass.
Our entire downstairs is flooded. As soon as you hit the landing - *SQUISH*. All of our bath towels are spread out across the brand new carpet attempting to absorb the water free-flowing from the busted water heater.
As Chris rattled off who needed to be called and what had to be done, all I heard was "wait for plumber" "sop up water" and "carpet ruined". I stared past Chris out the window and thought "This is not how I'm spending my thirtieth birthday, right?".
When I turned 29, I had elaborate plans to turn 30 on an island with a cocktail in my hand. Now, I stood in the kitchen of our rental property while Chris explained how best to squeeze out the towels so that they'll dry quicker in the dryer.
You know what I did, right? I think I've cried more in the past year than my entire life. I just said "But, I'm thirty today" and the tears flowed. Chris' face crumpled in realization. He hugged me and said "I am so so sorry".
It's not his fault, of course, that there's a flood. Or that our house didn't sell quicker. Or that none of my pants fit. Or that I'm not on an island with a cocktail. But, to Chris, it is. To Chris, it's his job to keep everyone happy. And shuffling around on towels does not a happy birthday make.
So, he did what any superhero husband does and announced "You are not doing a single dish!". Then, he put his keys down, rolled up his sleeves of his dress shirt, and cleaned the kitchen. I think I'll keep him.
By midday, the house was filled with people - insurance adjusters, plumbers, water restoration - a surprise party!
The owner of this house also came over.
Now, when we applied to lease this house, the owners were adamant that they did not want any animals. Of any kind. Since we were in love with the house, I pleaded with them to allow us to have our "cat". The cat, of course, is actually made up of two cats. Once the owners agreed to The Cat (and an extra grand), we didn't think it would ever be an issue. One of our cats, Jack, is outside all day long. We never see him until dinnertime. And the other is my huge ever present orange cat, Oliver, who spends his day trying to wear me.
As soon as the owner arrived, Oliver raced by, so it was official: Oliver was The Cat.
That is, until Jack decided that this was the day - the first in five years - that he wanted to stand in front of the sliding glass door and stare into the house. All day.
Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?
So, yes. I spent my 30th shuffling around on towels. And, yes, I will continue to spend the rest of this week and all of next without carpet downstairs, hot water, and missing half of the ceiling. While shooing away my confused cat.
Perhaps I should have been a bit more specific when I wished to spend my birthday surrounded by water.
Oh, universe. Don't stop being you.