We had one of those weekends, where nothing gets done, but you still feel good about things in the end.

Hubs, who had flown to a distant metropolitan area, where he was wined and dined and shown the private jet, simply because this computer company wants to sell them major computer components at ridiculously over-priced figures, got stuck out of town, due to the raging October blizzard, which turned our area into an icy, snow-infested spot much like Antarctica. Ice will do amazing things to a runway, which is not always conducive to landing and taking off, so Hubs and his buddy, Ryan, settled in for an extra night. For them, this meant uninterrupted televised sports for the entire evening.

For me, it meant another night of really not sleeping.

Because, let’s face it. When Hubs is gone, I tend to stay awake and listen for Sasquatch circling my house on foot.

(And really, would Sasquatch circle a house any other way? I’ve never heard of him being caught on film in a Volvo.)

The boy and I spent Friday night without Hubs, which turned out to be okay, because the boy had a playdate with his buddy, Kellen, and they were content to throw snowballs at one another until both of their coats were soaked completely through. When I finally took the boy home so that I could hang him up to dry, he persuaded me to stop at McDonald’s, because the current Happy Meal toy is some penny piece of plastic manufactured in Asia, but everyone has one, and so must he. I hate to say it, but he was extremely put out by McDonald’s choice of a Happy Meal toy for him, because he did not get the one that he wanted, and, in fact, was not even remotely pleased with the little plastic creature he did land, and we were left with some of the worst hamburgers either of us has ever eaten, and no wonderful toy.

McDonald’s, you are dead to us. Your Friday night burgers tasted like old shoes soaked in liquid lard, and you didn’t come through with the right toy.

Hubs arrived home at noon on Saturday, and we welcomed him back with his favorite activity: crashing on the sofa, in front of the big screen.

And low, people! Listen to what Hubs introduced us to! With the wonderment that is Hub’s new laptop and a swanky little cable, we connected the computer to the TV, surfed Netflix for a “play it now” option that was family friendly, and we watched “Mrs. Doubtfire,” right then and there. Technology never ceases to amaze me, but I imagine that the reason is simply that I’m so far behind, technically speaking, that when I finally do start to catch up, I’m absolutely blown away with how advanced everything is.

Needless to say, the DVR and “play it now” movies from Netflix have opened up an entire universe to me that I did not know existed. Can I get an “Amen” here?!

By Saturday evening, my nights spent walking the perimeter with one eyeball on the look out for any Yeti in our neighborhood, and ultimately, not sleeping, had caught up to me, and I was in bed at 7:45. Asleep at 7:46. ON A SATURDAY NIGHT, PEOPLE!

Clearly, I’m not in college any more.

On Sunday, we went to church and came home so that Hubs could watch the televised football game and verbally encourage the Denver Bronco coach to choose a couple different play options. He barked at his team, he cheered with his team, and, in the end, everyone was happy, as the Broncos were able to flash the victory sign after some heart-stopping overtime.

By Sunday night, the fun was almost too much at home, so when my dear friend, Amy, called and said, “Hey, I was thinking about a quick girls’ dinner at a posh little place, followed by a movie,” I was ready, with my coat on, in ten minutes flat.

Amy and I met Heather and Karline at this great little restaurant, and I tried very, very hard not to covet Karline’s incredible orange, corduroy jacket, because coveting is just flat-out wrong. That jacket was amazing, people. The girl talk at the restaurant covered the entire spectrum, but mostly we decided to talk about our nation’s health care system, our local health care system, and the Swine Flu. Clearly, we’re grown-ups now, and we like to have mature conversations with each other.

After eating more than Shaggy and Scooby Doo could ever have hoped to ingest, we waddled across the street to the theater, and kicked back with chocolate-covered almonds, because Shaggy and Scooby would never have passed up treats at the cinema, regardless of how enormous the dinner had been.

And that, people, is how we spent our weekend.

If this was a high school term paper, I’m rather confident that the instructor would scribble a big, bold, bright red “D+” at the top of the page, along with the words, “Lacks depth and emotion. Doesn’t draw the reader in and keep her there. See me about this.”

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