In Defense of Being Crazy

Old Navy opened at 3am. Rob and I were in line at 12:30, hoping to score a free copy of Lego Rock Band (with $20 purchase), given out via wristband to the first however many folks in line (supplies are “extremely limited” the fliers warned). We brought lawn chairs, wore layers, and hunkered down under the umbrella. I borrowed my father-in-law’s old man gloves, the kind that make your hands useless and ridiculously cozy. We each had our iPhones with games, audio books and podcasts (thank you Hey Girl Hey for getting me through the 1 – 2am stretch!), and we chatted with other people in line, talked about stuff with each other, and people watched to keep entertained.

We had actually had fun. I mean, it sucked when it started to rain, and I got loopy towards the end from lack of sleep, but the headphones and lawn chair and gloves made it bearable, and hanging out with each other under weird circumstances is always entertaining.

It’s a cool thing to have someone you’re in a relationship with totally understand why something that sounds so awful, like standing in the rain for two and half hours in the middle of the night, is an experience worth having, if only to get through it together (the savings on clothes were fantastic, too; we’re stocked for the next year with stuff to wear.) It’s bonding to have the rest of the world call you crazy.

Sometime in the middle of it all Rob placed his hand on the side of my neck and ran his thumb across my cheekbone thoughtfully. “There isn’t anyone else I’d rather be here with.” he said. “I like being here with you.”

My thoughts exactly.