Ahh, Wedded Bliss!

What more can I say?  The dishwasher exploded, I nearly caught the apartment on fire, and I should be doing dishes.  Welcome to the Eddington family!  No, really though.  It's rather fantastic.  Our family, I mean.  We're thinking of making shirts.  So you, the person I just welcomed to our family... I'm going to need your shirt size... And some new dish detergent...

Twelve days into marriage and it's only getting better!  My stupidity average is blasting through the roof, as you probably gathered from the previous paragraph.  It's not my fault they make the knobs on stove tops and their corresponding burner different depending on the brand.  How was I supposed to know I couldn't turn on a burner with my eyes closed?  Needless to say, it wasn't my fault when a whole bottle of vegetable oil made its way into every nook and cranny of our stove top.  Not my fault, I say.  Chad was wise enough to keep me at bay once the oopsie was discovered.  Then he promptly made a new rule: NO PUTTING THINGS ON THE BURNERS.  If you haven't made this rule, you should.  Unless its a pan of course.  Maybe the rule should read, "Don't put full containers of vegetable oil on the burners, whether or not you intend to turn that burner on, because odds are it will get turned on."  That makes much more sense. But super Chad came to the rescue and salvaged ALL of the oil. Not some. ALL.  You may wallow in jealousy if it floats your boat.  

The oil is now safely stowed away in a pretty little tupperware in our pantry.  Safe and sound.  No where near the burners.... Or me.

Well, world, that's our first post.  I will continue this epic tale whenever inspiration strikes...

Or whenever my husband goes to the library again...