Jeffrey and I used to play pong every day. I mean that literally, every day for over a year, right before we hit the bar and then for at least three hours after they closed (we were a sloppy pair, I assure you). I haven't played pong in ages, so when Jeffrey suggested a few games to help his yuck-beer go down smoother, I started the mad search for ping pong balls. While I rinsed our old pong cups (yeah, we keep them, we're cheap), Jeffrey yanked the door off of the cat's room/play room and set up our table. I was winning games (maybe just one) and Jeffrey was drinking quite a ton. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, Jeffrey asked me for a marker. Usually I'm not too keen to hand a drunk man a marker, especially with beige carpet, but Jeffrey was hardly slurring and I'm a trusting soul. I got him the marker.
And that's when he defaced our door.
These are the silly things that Jeffrey and I used to do when we first got together. Initials scratched into park benches, marker under hotel sinks and hearts in the toilet. We were destructive... and apparently still are.
Jeffrey and I aren't planning to stay in this apartment much longer, so I'm truly glad we had the opportunity to leave a mark on the first home that my baby has ever had. The first whole year of my child's life was spent in these eight rooms, and we couldn't possibly just bounce out without leaving a piece of her behind. Too bad that's not gonna happen.