I am only up this late because...

...I am trying to place a Gap order with a coupon code that expired on Sunday (which it ceased to be while I was picking out shirts for Jason) and now the Web site is down. The things I do for my precious preppy clothing when I have a hefty discount... I am shaking my head at myself, but I can't pass up 30 percent off.

We didn't end up going dancing on Friday. Instead, Jason rented Iron Man and I finally finished reading Skinny Bitch. We spent all day Saturday out in the rain hunting down video games, then returning them when Jason discovered "scratches" on the discs. (We do that every weekend. You only think that I am kidding.)

After having a salad bar/split veggie burger dinner at Ruby Tuesday's, we went home to give Jasper his insulin. I then spent two hours trying on my "going out" clothes before settling on Gap jeans and a black ruffled top from Old Navy.

It was unseasonably warm out, so I was going to wear some nice knee-length black pants I got at Target with a black and silver lacy cami, but that wouldn't work because I did not have the right shoes to wear with short pants. I couldn't wear my cute black beaded flip flops because hello, those are not bar/club-wear--I am not going to risk getting my foot impaled by some drunk ho in stilettos. Actually, I couldn't wear anything open-toed because right now my toes look like they belong on a hobbit's foot. (I'm sure you must be thinking that it is awfully stupid for me to care about anyone looking at my toes in a dark dance club, and you would be right--anyone would be far too busy looking at my boobs to look down and notice my fugly toes. I'm just saying.) My black sling-back flats looked stupid, and my black pumps hurt too much when I don't wear tights. My favorite black shoes that I've had since high school are too beat up to wear and will be headed to the trash soon. (Their insides are ripping out. It's sad.)

I finally decided to wear jeans so I could just wear my comfortable, cute black faux-leather soccer cleats that I got from the men's section at Payless. (I wear men's size six. I dated a guy in college whose feet were smaller than mine. His other parts were smaller than mine, too--even the parts I don't technically have. Oh yes, I am going there on the internet. I just googled him and I find myself compelled to mock his post-college job, too, but I suppose insulting his genitalia is quite sufficient for today.)

After I fussed with my rain- and humidity-wrecked hair and makeup and Jason made an ATM run for cover charge cash, we made our way to Rain (in Jason's hometown!), where we shook our bon-bons until closing time. Have I ever mentioned how much I love going out? Because I LOVE IT. It makes me wish we had a larger social network so we could go to events and parties. As it is, we're at an age where everyone starts to marry off and the only wedding on our horizon is in spring 2009. We may not even go to that. It depends on if we still live in Massachusetts.

And we might not. The Navy thing is still a possibility, but tonight Jason brought up the potential of moving to Michigan instead, and I nearly burst into tears during dinner at Mehmaan because moving home to live there (for real) and not just visit (for play) would MAKE MY LIFE. And trust me that I mean that without a shred of sarcasm, because home + husband = my dream come true. For real and not for play. Shit, I'm teary-eyed right now just thinking about it.

I could be with my family, I could have FRIENDS again (and let's be honest, I do not have a single friend in Massachusetts--it's pathetic), and I could feel like MYSELF for once instead of feeling like an alien. I would never have suggested moving home for fear of making Jason feel pressured into it, but it was all his idea, and he is quite serious about it. He said that I gave up my happy life in Virginia to come live near his family in Massachusetts, and now that we know that we're mostly unhappy with the result of that, we should give it a try near my family. Because they are AWESOME and accepting and they think he is Jesus. Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but my family members do like him an awful lot. And he likes them, too.

Massachusetts is a long, dark tunnel (seriously, it gets dark here at 4 PM now!) and the prospect of going home for good is a floodlight on the horizon. I'm trying so, so hard not to get my hopes up, but as it is I don't get to go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas this year, so I have to hang on to whatever shred of hope I can find.