Sand Pail List: The Weekday Hangover

Ahh. Staying out until 11pm used to be easy. When we were in college, it was the norm - even with an early class schedule. Something about dive bars and cheap beer made the mornings easier. But after graduation and the reality of actual responsibility, if we're not laying on the couch watching DVR-ed Dexter by 10:30, we're living in fear of the next morning.

Still, every once in a while, a late night out during the week with friends we don't see often enough is the prescription we need, even if it means a self-prescribed dose of Tylenol, Gatorade and greasy McDonald's breakfast in the morning. And that's what happened last week when we decided to relive college with about 40-50 other young Providence College alums.

Providence College is your typical small, New England drinking school with a Catholic problem. It's a small campus - smaller than several high school campuses in the Washington area. And an even smaller student population - just over 4,000. Despite the size, PC shared a tailor-made zip code with seven bars, four "packies," and three Dunkin Donuts (four, if you had a car or were willing to walk an extra two blocks). So when we heard the alumni club was throwing a "Welcome to DC" happy hour at Bar Louie near the Verizon Center, we were all about it.

Happy hour turned into happy hours very quickly - especially after running into a good number of people we haven't seen since leaving the dive bars along Admiral Street. Old stories we retold and others were embellished. We met friends' wives and husbands and talked with casual acquaintances about their jobs and apartments. It was a trip back five years, to a time when just walking into a bar (or a classroom or cafeteria) made you part of a larger community.

That's what we remember about Providence. We all had something in common. We all had shared experiences, even if we didn't know the people we were sharing them with.

Despite the pulsing headache, these nights are important because they're about more than unwinding with a few drinks and a cold buffet. Since leaving college, these nights are few and far between - and, for a young married couple, they're an endangered species, making the next morning a scar we wore proudly.

So, there it is, a Sand Pail item crossed off. But still an item, nonetheless, we hope we can scratch off again.

Youngest on the Block

So how’d it all start?

We met in college. Mike was an editor with the school paper and wrote a weekly column on campus politics. Kristin was the photo editor. After a first date at Mike’s favorite pub, his charm convinced her to give him a shot (despite his awesome leather jacket). Five years later, Mike convinced her to marry him when he proposed on the campus where we met. And last year, after a rainy October wedding, Mike convinced her to jump off a cliff one more time when he said we were ready to buy a house… making us the Youngest on the Block.

That’s how it started. But it’s a story that's still being drafted, edited and rewritten… and it’s a fun story to be a part of. So much fun, we thought we’d finally write it down.

Welcome to our foray into couples blogging. After seeing the success of blogs like Young House Love and reading our friend's blog, we thought we’d jump on the bandwagon and open an outlet that chronicles what it’s like to be married and homeowners at 25.

We’ll post about the little things, the big things and the things that usually go unnoticed. We’ll write about the places we like, the ways we save (or try to save) money, the things that go wrong (like the toilet that needs a new lever or the leaky shower), and the things that go right. We’ll chronicle projects and share recipes. And sometimes we’ll just write something because we feel like it.

But mostly, we’ll tell our side of the story of what it means to be young, married and urban in a suburban enclave.

Enjoy.

-m&k

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