Missing The Old Roommates

A year ago I had the pleasure of living with 3 amazing fellas. We were a dream team for 12 glorious months. Toward the end of our lease, I got inspired to do something to celebrate our happy home. I planned a whole week dedicated to hanging out with each other and being awesome together. One day was set aside for hard core Olympic style competition. The events were amazing. There was a no hands nacho and cheese eating contest, an impressively focused game of hot potato yam, the life threatening chubby bunny, and a water relay that stopped traffic. The most hilarious event was a game that required us to put on socks. The catch was that we would be blindfolded and wearing gloves. I want you to go right now and try to do that. Harder than it sounds, right?

We sat, blindfolded and gloved, in a circle with a pile of socks and other decoy items piled in front of us. On the count of three we started frantically grabbing, flailing, and pushing for the footwear. My pointy elbows gave me an advantage here. But then we had to put them on our feet. Some of us were better at this than others. I couldn't even figure out which end of the sock had the opening. Needless to say, I didn't win. I managed to put on two socks while my coordinated roommates donned at least 6. All while I tried to sabotage them and hide the socks in my shirt. Because I'm a sore loser.

Don't get me wrong, I love living with my man Mr. Handsome and our dog. But sometimes I really miss my boys. 1477 for life.