Eight Years Ago...

Eight years ago, Steve and I had been together for three years, having met our senior year of college. We were living in Cincinnati, working in completely different jobs, with no real responsibility outside of our two cats, who were perfectly fine with being left alone for a day or two if we decided to make an impromptu weekend trip to somewhere fun.

I was working for a bank, and attended happy hours two or three nights a week. Steve was working in sales, and had season tickets to almost every sports team in and around Cincinnati (including a full slate of home baseball games, an entire NFL season, and a college basketball schedule). What we were going to do on any given weekend night was a pretty big topic of conversation most Friday afternoons.

We never slept, and it really wasn't that big of a deal.

Now, all of this time later, we live in Atlanta, with those same two cats, but we've added two dogs and a kid to the mix, with another one of those babies everybody is so crazy about on the way. We get home from work as soon as we can. We can find the time to make maybe three or four live sporting events a year, if that, but it has to be planned well in advance. I can't tell you the last time I tried to make plans for a weekend night, since we're too busy at the zoo or the pumpkin patch or the apple orchard or Costco during the day to have any energy for anything other than quality couch time at night.

 

We still never sleep, but HOO BUDDY has it caught up with us, big time.

 

And still, I don't mind. I love our life together, and other than the fact that we still haven't won the lottery and moved ourselves to our own private island somewhere, I really wouldn't change a thing.

 

(But seriously, world. Where, in the name of all that is good, is my island?!?!?! I would like it now, please...)