party like it's six in the morning

Sometimes we do that here.

Party at six in the morning, that is.

You see, Tyler's car has decided to take another crap on us, thus leaving us with only one vehicle. Which means, when he goes to work,  I go to work.

When he works till midnight, I work till midnight.
Kidding...

I sit in the car while he endures the bloody Rexburg wind in an attempt to jumpstart his car.

Which doesn't work.

But we actually prefer partying like it's six in the Friday evening.

Our Friday nights have become what some might call "boring and predictable."

We call them freakin' paradisaical.

Here is how they go:

1. We get into our sweats.

2. Make fajitas while dancing around the kitchen to our boy Trace Adkins.

3. Eat said fajitas.

Except I don't know if "eat" is a strong enough word.

More like devour, ravage, inhale those little babies.

{If you can't tell, they are sort of our fav.}

We tend to complain about how full we are, but then exchange that are-you-thinking-what-i'm-thinking-yep-i-am-let's-go-get-icecream-look.

4. We then proceed to travel to any number of ice cream joints in this little town.

  And of course we love to critique the ice cream according to creaminess, chunkiness, deliciousness, etc.

5. Then, we watch the newest Grey's Anatomy...

which actually airs on Thursday nights but it would be an absolute sin to watch it while Ty is working. Husband must suffer through it with me.

6. Then, we go to bed at ten in the pm.

And, no joke, that has been our Friday night for the last few months.

Call it what you will.

We call it heaven on earth.