Sometimes when I come home from work, the home I return to looks very little like the home I left. It both amuses and disturbs me when Mister does huge, home-changing projects in my absence because he never ever finishes before I get home, and then he gets distracted and loses steam.
As proof of that, there are two large boxes hanging out in the middle of the living "room" and clothes are strewn all over the bed and floor in the bedroom. At least we found a place for the shelving unit that had also been in the middle of the bedroom when I first returned from work.
When I married him, I had no idea he would rearrange our furniture every few months while I was at work. Isn't that something for which women are supposed to be blamed?
Lest you think me ungrateful or dissatisfied, let me assure you - my very first reaction to our home, aside from a brief moment of "what the heck is going on??" was one of joy. It really looks better (except for the clothing all over the bedroom floor, but that's an easy fix). He cleared up some space in the living room and finally hung up my carved antique shelves and unpacked the two remaining boxes in the bedroom (yes, I know we moved in February...obviously we didn't need the stuff in the boxes that bad).
I had stopped at Superfresh on my way home because we lacked bread and garlic and apples. Although he did let me put the groceries away first, as soon as I had my coat off, he required my input for the bedroom, so we finished arranging a few things and moved them around a bit. Only then did we park on couch and Mister said he was hungry and asked if we could eat. He isn't usually that forward, so I asked if he wanted me to make something or if he wanted to go out.
Well, today was payday and Friday and I lead the team in sales today, which is quite an accomplishment since I just started a month ago, so we went to Pietro's for a nice little dinner.
We started with a plate of grilled vegetables. Forgive the dark picture, but the inside of the South Street Pietro's is modeled after the darkened streets of Italy, apparently. It's beautiful and rustic, with red bricks and stucco and green things growing all over the place and Juliet balconies "overlooking" the dining area. There are even "gas lamps" on the walls and at the ends of "fences" between dining areas. It's actually quite gorgeous, but dark.
Anyway, the grilled veggies consisted of artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, grilled zucchini and eggplant (which I rescued from Mister), tomatoes and a couple of cheeses Mister was happy to have to himself.
Mister happily ate his standard order: pizza, while I tasted a little bit of heaven in each bite of my Spaghetti con Pomodoro Fresco. When I was running an errand for work earlier, I passed the Rittenhouse location and that got my tastebuds drifting off in a reverie of remembering the last time (first time!) I had this and how incredible it was. Honestly, and it's awful to say this so close to Ralph's (I hope they don't hear me), but this is the best spaghetti I've ever had.
Speaking of heavenly... there are only 1 minute left for the Rapture to occur! Hold onto your hat, Mr. Camping - I think the bus is coming!