We went to an open house yesterday. Something in our price range, not too far from where we live now, with a yard and lots of light. Even this early step makes the whole process feel more real. Real and scary. What about taxes? And insurance? And the neighbor’s dog? And shoveling the front walk? Oh god, my head just exploded.

I’m betting/hoping buying a house will be like getting into a hot tub. One toe at a time and it’s not so bad.

Then we went to dinner and a movie in the suburbs because, as I’ve mentioned before, we’re getting old. I know we’re old because we agree that eating at the mall where the movie was playing, just made good sense. Though our movie choice – Pitch Perfect – contradicts that a bit.

Loved it. I couldn’t stop smiling. Granted, I’m a sucker for modern music sung a capella and snazzy dancing. But who isn’t. The teenage girls filling the rest of the theater certainly agreed. The movie had a good balance of predictable teen drama and crude humor. If you go only to see Rebel Wilson – who plays Fat Amy – top that meth joke from the previews, you won’t be disappointed.

(Yeah her name is Rebel Wilson. Great fucking name. Now, I love her even more than I did when I saw her in Bridesmaids.)

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