Yesterday I overnighted our dossier to our agency, in all its three-hole punched, triplicate glory. Yes, I died a little inside when the overnight package cost $49.25, but in a good way, really. Surprisingly, we finished the entire dossier in about three months, and could've been quicker, but we were originally told we couldn't submit the dossier without the I-71H. After talking with our agency last week, we decided to go ahead and send it in without the I-71H to get the translation started. We're expecting the I-71H sometime around the end of June, and I tell you, that thing is worth my weight in gold. I overnighted the original dossier and two copies, and kept five copies for us (in lieu of the suggested two). Why five, you ask? Because I'm crazy, I guess, as I cannot possibly see any scenario in which we misplace four copies of the dossier and have to dig down deep for that fifth copy. But when we travel I'm going to pack one in the checked baggage and one in each of our carry-ons, and leave one at home just in case we lose everything and need it to be emergency-overnighted to us. Murphy's law, people, Murphy's law.
Tonight Dancing with the Stars is on. I plan to introduce Keith to the wonder of this show, but I already know he will hate it. Much like when I make him watch Britney & Kevin: Chaotic. I don't know what it is about that show that makes me watch. I haven't enjoyed a single episode, but I'm drawn back with forceful magnetism each and every Tuesday. Last night was the big finale, with the wedding and the infamous Pimps sweatsuits, and if your faith in love and romance wasn't renewed after watching that, well then, you're not the person I thought you were. If watching Kevin choke up on his words of love to Britney didn't make you cry just a little, then who are you people?