I’m being dramatic. But that’s what our first “Date Night In” felt like on Friday.
When we lived in Virginia, we waxed poetic about the cozy nights we would have in our renovated room once we were settled on the farm. After a month of dwelling on the living room floor, we’ve spent the last two weeks enjoying the space (albeit slightly unfinished) mostly because we now boast a door. And 4 walls. Which means we get a bit of privacy in this house for romantic date nights.
Rewind to Friday. After working all day on the farm while Scott worked in his office, we convened at 3:30 to begin what was supposed to be our first official date night at home. We went to the store to grab odds and ends for a charcuterie board, and decided we’d make a few fall cocktails to complement the evening.
However, unexpected visits warped our schedule, and we got delayed on our 5 pm start time. Around 7 PM we were still not close to heading in for our night. Around 7:30 we excused ourselves from company and started whipping up our board and cocktails and by 8 PM we took to our room – closed the door, got in bed with our snacks and drinks, and turned on Netflix so we could “chill”.
What we didn’t account for would be the swarm of farmhouse flies (SMACK!!!) that would circle and hover over our dishes. Every 30 seconds, our eyes would follow a bug and we’d drop our food to (SMACK!!!) try to clap one of the bugs. Sadly, victory would only mean wiping our spoils on a nearby napkin and jumping up to wash our hands. Pause Netflix, wait for the victor to return.
Climb back into bed, re-situate, SMACK!!!!! Pause Netflix. Wash hands.
Climb back into bed, bump the spoon in the accompanying dish, food flies everywhere. Jump up, wipe up mess, wash hands. SMACK!!!!! Wash hands again.
Drink cocktail, crawl ON TOP of bed, eat cracker. Watch 5 minutes of movie, SMACK!!!! You know the drill.
Around 8:45, we gave up. Somewhere between the bug guts and the food mess, the romance of the night died and we both got out of bed, returned our half finished charcuterie board to the kitchen, downed our cocktails and went out to the barn to do evening chores.
It was like a scene from Funny Farm – no snake or skeleton in the garden, but the farm bugs thwarted our first romantic evening at home. That’s what we get for this late summer in WNY – waiting for a good frost to rid our old house of the remaining summer bugs and flies that drive us to the edge of insanity.
The good news is that only a few days after the mess, Scott and I are laughing about it and we have even reconciled to save the cork from our first “date night-in” on our farm to commemorate the disaster. Here’s hoping the next one is better.