Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
A couple days ago, I noticed something black in Mike’s teeth.
I looked at him more closely, a bit confused. I knew he hadn’t recently eaten a kiwi fruit or a poppy seed muffin.
So I looked again.
And I noticed a couple of wings jutting out from what I now realized was an ebony body.
Augh. A bug.
I gasped, thoroughly grossed out, and pointed out the protein he had lodged between two of his teeth.
“Oh,” he laughed. “That’s how you know I’m a happy biker.”
Touché.
Most of my friends here in Boulder are geniuses.
My boyfriend, Mike Soltys, is one of them.
He just told me over G-chat that there’s water in his lab because his flume is leaking.
“I think it might havesomething to do with thermal expansion coefficients,” he said, as if he were talking about the weather.
Need more proof?
Just check out his profile pics:
Mike and company have been having fun.
A LOT of fun.
Which I’m totally glad about.
But they haven’t seen any spiders … Which I suppose it good. But if I’m completely honest, I’d have to admit that I was hoping for just one Mike-saves-his-cohorts-from-enormous-arachnid tale.
I love this mega store where you can find anything (well, almost) that you want, all in one place.
That’s the key word though: find.
Walking through the check-out line today (how the crap did I end up buying $43.12 worth of stuff when all I intended to purchase was a box of fricking crackers?), I noticed that they have a map of the store, assumedly for those unable to find what they’re in search of.
Now, I’m an advocate of maps. I’m working for Backpacker magazine after all. I know that it’s wise to carry a layout of your surroundings with you even when you’re heading somewhere familiar … but Target?
I mean, I suppose it makes sense … I couldn’t count the number of times Mike and I have cursed the “other’s” grocery store because the allocation of goods in aisles just doesn’t make sense to us. But that doesn’t mean that I’d actually succumb to requesting something as obviously helpful as an actual map. I’m far more likely to wander around seemingly aimlessly, muttering curses under my breath and after all hope is lost, begging someone with a name tag for help.
But ask for a map? That would make way too much sense.
And anyways, those unflappable flaps information are for the trail, not for Target.
For bugs in my boyfriend’s bathroom.
There are two corpses in there already … poor little box elder bug, who’s laying on his little back with his six little legs up in the air.
I don’t feel as bad for the mosquito who’s smooshed against the wall.
Sitting in Mike’s lab right now, writing an article (and blogging) while he works on his fluids experiment, I feel like I’m learning so much more about him.
Not because he’s explaining his engineering techniques to me.
And not because I’m getting to see him in action.
It’s entirely because Pandora is blaring a sweet combination of Stevie Wonder, The Beatles and Aerosmith, and he’s dancing around as if his life depended on it.
At first I was flattered to think that he was trying to impress me, but since he’s been jumping and jiving for the past half an hour (and he’s showing no signs of stopping), my ego is starting to deflate a bit as I realize his joviality has nothing to do with me.