When I woke this morning I'd had an email informing me of some benefit dinner I'm expected to attend. Normally it's no big deal, I don't mind them too much, though the food is always horrible. Sometimes I can talk my Special Someone into attending and those are always more fun. His commentary is always priceless and every so often we attempt a dance or two, but those can have... interesting results.
So normally I would attend, linger exactly the 90 minutes required for etiquette's sake and then make my escape as graciously as possible. But then I realized that if I did go, like I usually do, I'd spend the entire evening waiting for it to be done. Through the entire event I'd be fantasizing about getting home and into soft warm pajamas and onto the sofa, getting my evening dose of what I call human contact, what he calls 'snuggles'. I suppose his term is more fitting, really.
I replied to the email with my regards and regrets. I have other engagements for the evening, and yes, I'll pick up ice cream on my way home.
Current Mood: |
 mellow |
Current Music: |
Celine Dion, It's All Coming Back to Me Now |
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slonsteady's journal
cynical
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