Oh, for the love...

This weekend was a comedy of errors.

It started the second I woke up Friday morning. I got out of bed and stumbled to the fridge to get my morning Diet Coke (stop judging!). I put my cup under the ice dispenser and a river of water came rushing out. It was then that I realized I was standing on a sopping wet kitchen mat. Crap! All the ice in the freezer door had melted and leaked out and onto the kitchen floor. I opened the freezer and found everything in side only mildly cold. Double crap! That's when it hit me - THE TOP TIER OF OUR WEDDING CAKE WAS IN THE FREEZER. I went into crisis mode. Still half asleep and soggy footed, I called The Sister. "Don't leave for work - I'm coming over." Still in my pjs and sans make-up I jumped into the car and rushed over to The Sister's house cake in hand. She saved the day and stashed it in her freezer for me. Problem solved! Crisis averted! Oh...wait...the fridge. Still broken. Triple crap. (Also, I may have stopped by 7-11 on the way back to my house to get a Big Gulp of Diet Coke. In my pajamas and ponytail. Again, stop judging!)

The Mister promised to find someone to come out and fix the fridge and I went in to the office. At lunch, the associates in my office took our summer intern out for a farewell lunch. On the way back to the office, with the intern in my passenger seat, I attempted a three point turn. It didn't go well. I slammed the front of my car up onto the curb in front of, oh about 12 people. The intern nearly died laughing in the passenger seat. Luckily, aside from the mortifying embarrassment of driving like a moron in front of half the people in my office building, there wasn't much damage - just a few scrapes on the underside of the bumper.

Things started looking up from there. We found someone to come out and fix the fridge (Thank you sweet baby jesus. Did you know a fridge could cost $5000?!?! Holy geez - that's a lot of chedda yo!) and had a housewarming party to go to that evening.

The Sister and her roomies hosted a great party at their home on Friday night. Good food, good wine, great friends. As the night wore on, people slowly started to leave, but quite a few hours into the party, a solid group of us remained. Somehow the topic turned to wakeboarding. The Sister's roommate was explaining that your lead foot on the wakeboard is the same foot that you would lead with in a cartwheel. Well, that's all it took. Soon, a bunch of half-drunk (late) 20-somethings were cartwheeling around on the concrete driveway. Only being half-drunk, we finally came to our senses and quite rationally decided that we should move the cart-wheeling inside onto the carpet. (Seriously, is no one in charge of us?) Anyhow, being the classy and coordinated lady that I am, I set about cart-wheeling in the living room. And promptly kicked my leg into the back of the couch and fell onto my arse. Despite quite a few glasses of wine, it hurt like a son of a gun. I woke up in the morning with an aching leg and an enormous bruise/lump combo. I'm really not sure if I'm more embarrassed about the fact that I'm a grown woman who drinks too many glasses of wine and ends up cart-wheeling at a cocktail party or that I'm too damn old to do a proper cart-wheel. Probably the latter.

The story really should end here. But it doesn't.

Saturday night we decided to have a girl's night. Dinner and a late showing of "The Time Traveler's Wife". A low key evening by our standards. The weather was surprisingly beautiful for a Florida summer evening, so we had dinner on the patio of a local seafood restaurant. After dinner we made our way to the new theater downtown for the movie, but the place was a zoo. When we were still waiting in line at the time the movie started, we decided to abandon the movie plan. Rather than call it a night, we ended up at "booth 2" for a drink. Soon, that got crazy busy too so we decided to go home and drink some of the leftover wine from the party the night before and play board games. When we got back to the house, we decided to go sit out on the porch for a bit with our cocktails and enjoy the evening. This is where things went wrong. Very wrong.

You see, The Sister's bedroom has double doors which lead out to a great outdoor patio on the second floor of the house. The door has a dead bolt lock, but it also has a small turn lock on the handle. Well - apparently that lock got turned. And we got locked out. At this point, it's nearly 12:30 am, no one else is home and we've left our cell phones inside. We are on the second floor of the house and it's a long way down. To concrete. It becomes clear very quickly that we are screwed. We scream for the neighbors, but they're still out. The other roommate, and the only other person with a key to the house, is at her boyfriend's house for the night and long asleep. Not that we had a phone to call her with. Then, we saw her. Our savior. A jogger. We started screaming to get her attention and begged her to come down the driveway to help us. And she did. (Who the hell goes down a dark driveway in the middle of the night in response to hollering girls? If I were her I may have called 911, but I'm pretty sure I don't go wandering down the dark driveway. Clearly, the girl makes poor decisions - she's out running alone at 1am. Bless her and her bad decisions.) Back to the story. Our savior - whom we come to know as Adele - has a cell phone. We ask her to call the roommate, but we can't remember her phone number. So I ask her to call The Mister. The Mister does not answer calls from numbers he doesn't know and it's about 50/50 if he'll hear the phone while he's asleep. But we're desperate. Adele puts the cell phone on speaker and it goes to voice mail. I shout down a message pleading for help. We send her next door to bang on the door when The Mister saves the day and calls Adele back. Hallelujah! But we're not out of the woods yet. The Mister doesn't have a key to The Sister's house - he can't get us out. We tell him to call the roommate's boyfriend (a friend of his) and beg them to come over and save us. Luckily, he got through to them, woke them up and convinced them to come back and rescue us from the porch. When they pulled into the driveway 15 minutes later we jumped for joy. Seriously, you would have thought we were Tom Hanks in Castaway and had been talking to a volleyball for years and spearing fish for sustenance, rather than sitting outside on a patio in the company of friends on a nice Florida night for an hour. We certainly have a flair for the dramatic.

Luckily, the streak of disastrous occurrences ended there. Sunday was delightfully uneventful. The Sister and I started the morning with a trip to the Super Target (bought Troop Beverly Hills on dvd. A classic.) and I went home and watched an embarrassing amount of Gossip Girl. The Mister and I had Chipotle for dinner and watched True Blood before heading to bed.

Despite the broken fridge, embarrassing car incident, cart-wheel catastrophe, foiled movie plans and stranding on the porch, it was a pretty great weekend! I could really use a weekend to recover from my weekend though.

Oh, and I totally rocked a skirt to work today, awesome bruise and all. My cover story, in the event someone asked, was that I hit it on the elliptical at the Y. I really am a mess.