A Weekend on Someone else's Couch

I love my sister. Every time I type that, "my sister," a story from Kelli's freshman year of college pops in my head. She may not even remember it, but for some unknown reason its stuck with me. Kelli is the oldest and as a result was the first to move away from home. When one of the sisters would call her dorm room and she wasn't home - mind you this was in the days before cell phones! yes it's true, that time really did exist - we would have to leave a message with her roommate. The message would usually be, "Oh just tell her her sister called." Her roommate didn't like us very much, because being a decent roommate she would tell Kelli when she returned home, "Your sister called." Kelli would respond, "Well which one?" The roommate didn't like that. So the roommate wised up and the conversations started going like this:

"Is Kelli there?"
"No, can I take a message?"
"Oh just tell her her sister called." (actually, I probably said something more along the lines of: "What!? Well where is she? Didn't she know I was calling? How rude?" Of course I was just be obnoxious - yes me! - but roommate didn't like that either)
"Well which sister! There are so many of you."
"Oh sorry, Kristan."
"K, bye."

See why roommate didn't like us. Anyway, every time I refer to one of my sisters as "my sister" I, clearly, know who I'm talking about and sometimes I forget you aren't inside my head and know who I'm talking about. Wow that was quite the rant.

Well, I could have eliminated that story by saying, I love Kelli. Last weekend I needed to get away. My patience is wearing thin while I wait for schools to tell me if I'm good enough for them. Work is insanely busy. And sometimes, just sometimes, I do need to get away from the city.


Spending all day Saturday on someone else's couch somehow feels much better (and more productive) than just lying on mine all day. So that is what I did. I hopped on a bus and went down to DC. I used to think this trip was a bigger deal, but now sitting on a bus for eight hours feels so worth a two day trip.

I saw Oh Michelle. I saw my good friend, who I don't see often enough, Lauren. I saw The Other Boleyn Girl. I ate Key Lime Pie Ice Cream. I laughed through most of church (the jury is still out on whether this is bad or not). I froze in her apartment. I slept. I had a fabulous time. I don't know what I would do if I was in NYC and Kelli wasn't in DC.

(and since i'm told a blog is really all about the pictures, this is a picture of a couch. not kelli's couch, but a couch. a pottery barn couch. because i feel like i never take pictures anymore.)