I’m in the Oregon. And to be perfectly frank, aside from the whole not being with Husband (of whom I have grown quite fond) thing, everything basically rocks my world. I mean, it’s Oregon. And there’s Oregon stuff everywhere. And Oregonians.
I love Oregonians.
And, even better, we have come to the beach for a wedding. Before you start imagining some Cancunian destination wedding, I should provide the disclaimer that the Oregon coast isn’t exactly that sort of beach. But it’s beautiful and wonderful all the same. I mean … Oregon. It’s in Oregon.
And, even more better, I ate quite possibly the most magnificent burger of my entire life — I’m not sure what made it so delicious: the ingredients or the fact that it was provided to me by a vegetarian family. Seriously, best vegetarians ever. Because they’re Oregonians. I doubled up on bacon. I put a healthy dollop of guacamole on top. I squirted on dijon for good measure. I’m having difficulty breathing and getting comfortable in bed (well, that might be because I can literally feel every single spring in this mattress) — in case you are unaware, that is a good thing. I love to eat till I feel pain.
But, as per usual, there is
The Low Point
The parents and I are staying in a beach rental. It’s kind of weird. I met an architecture student tonight (note to self: don’t immediately launch into “How I Met Your Mother” with architecture students because apparently they don’t love Ted Mosby as much as one might think), and while I don’t know him well enough to definitively make a declarative statement about his personal tastes, I feel fairly confident he would have a few negative things to say about this place.
Especially about the lighting. He wants to specialize in lighting.
Speaking of, I can’t figure out how in THEE hell to turn off one of the overhead lights in the living area. And before you think I am a total moron, I assure you I am actually a very modest genius who likes to hide her overwhelming intelligence so as to not embarrass the general masses. *coughs*
I tried every single light switch I could find. I tried multiple variations; the far left switch up, the middle switch down, the far right switch up. The far left switch down, the middle switch down, the far right switch up. No dice. I’m pretty sure I accidentally turned the porch light on and off enough times to mislead a wayfarer with pseudo-morse code. If the police show up, well, my bad.
There are two things right off the bat that make this whole light switch debacle a big issue for me: one, I hate wasting energy (because, you know, I’m from Oregon), and two, it’s going to be all the more embarrassing when the parents show me the light switch I needed to flip in order to turn it off. But I think we can all agree that a person can only try so much before it becomes really embarrassing. Sometimes giving up is the right thing to do.
So remember that, next time you pass by a house or apartment with what appears to be an errant overhead light on. Maybe there is a practical, sound individual inside who realized he/she just needed to give up for the night.*
Nothing wrong with that.
*True story: I typed “give up” into Getty Images and found a photo of a wildebeest getting eaten by a crocodile. So that might be low point number two.