Last night, Brad got home at the stroke of midnight, having worked late and then picked up someone from the airport. He had drunk one of those caffeine drinks that is supposed to give you WINGS...and keep you awake. So, needless to say, he didn't fall asleep as fast as he usually does. We started talking about putting a kitchenette into our finished basement so we could possibly use it as a rental space. It's something we've talked about before, sort of relegating it to the dim future. But there is a chance that the dim future has become now. So, we were talking about weird home-owner things like plumbing and putting some outside steps around the back of the house, and other logistics... Suddenly, I said, " I want to go down and look at the basement." Duh. It's a basement. I've seen it before. But for some reason, we were both wicked excited about it. We both leaped out of bed and rushed downstairs to the basement. It was probably quarter of one in the morning at that point. We walked around, scheming and brainstorming. I felt like a little kid.
And then we found a lizard in the bathroom. Niiiiice. Brad shooed me out (I didn't need much convincing) while he blew on it to see if it was alive. Nope. It was dead. Gross. He dealt with it. All dead animals fall under his jurisdiction, whether it be mice in New Hampshire, or lizards in Georgia.
Anyway, this random experience of running down to the basement in the middle of the night and planning home improvement projects left me thinking, " I love being married to Brad."