At one point while in Charleston, Derek and I decided to visit a nearby beach. When we arrived, Derek carefully spread out his towel, wrapped his phone and glasses in his discarded t-shirt, and laid them ever so precisely next to his towel, then lowered himself onto his towel to wait 'til I got tired of the beach because he was only there because I wanted to go in the first place. By the time he had finished his little Beach Arrival Ritual, I swear to you I did not see a single grain of sand on his towel or his person.
I promise you, I did all the same things he did. I carefully wrapped my lip balm (I cannot be without lip balm, okay? It's my standard deserted island answer) and my phone already in a sandwich bag (because I know myself) in my own t-shirt, and laid them veryvery carefully on the sand after only dropping all of it in that same sand twice. I spread my towel out very exactly, laid down on it, and got my out my book.
Ten minutes later I got up from my towel to find a fine layer of sand over almost every inch of me. My [library] book wouldn't close properly because of all the sand in between its pages and caked in its spine. I spent the next two days scouring a layer of skin off my lips because there was so much sand in my lip balm. Derek looked at me when we were wading in the surf and said, "Your face is covered in sand. How do you have sand on your face?" To which I could only say, "I DON'T KNOW."
|Covered in sand|
I also found a crab burrowed in the sand, pulled Derek over to see it, then yelped and jumped back when it ATTACKED. (And by "attacked" I mean suddenly sideways-skittered away.) I did not know that crabs are like giant spiders with an exoskeleton and eye stalks. Why are there not more crab-phobics out there?
Derek did not yelp or so much as flinch when the crab ATTACKED. Actually what I think he said was, "What did you expect?" I can only assume this is in reference to the fact that I kept getting closer and closer to the crab, leaning over it until I finally scared it away. I am from KANSAS, husband. What do I know about shellfish?
Our final day in South Carolina, we drove past a used bookstore while killing time before our flight. I walked in and saw this:
Take this photo times about SEVEN because that's how big this bookstore was. I immediately found a Garrison Keillor for one singular dollar, and was about to start frolicking and burrowing when Derek said, "I don't want to spend too much time here," to which I started doing this weird jogging in place thing in conjunction with a distressed, whimpering "HUH-H-H-H-H" sound until my somatic nervous system caught up with the autonomic and was like ohmygosh you are so embarrassing and I stopped. I found a couple more books and may or may not have darted around corners anytime I saw Derek coming. Then we left and went somewhere else I don't even remember because it wasn't this bookstore, but my husband took pity on me and suggested he drop me back off at the book palace while he gassed up the rental car.
And that is how I left Charleston with six more books than I had upon arrival.
This one's for you, Common Household Mom:
See the comments if you're experiencing (abnormal amounts of) confusion.