A Besotted Fairy Tale


A Besotted Fairy Tale
A Besotted Fairy Tale

Last night I was supposed to stay home and pack my suitcase, but as is always the case with me, I cannot possibly pack when I’m supposed to, instead opting for a desperate scrambling of chucking crap into a bag seconds from departure. Good thing I’m a list keeper, because at least I can check off the items so I will know that my frantic last moments of packing are precise like lasers.

So last night I did a half-assed job of almost being entirely packed except some essentials. Then I made the decision to prematurely abandon my responsibilities and meet Red Beard and friends out at a bar. I’m spending this weekend in Boston with Paula and Basil, and while I’m deliriously excited to see them, I’m still not over the whole feeling of having to spend the last moments that I can with Red Beard when I’m staring down the barrel of a whole weekend away from him. Maybe you never get over that feeling. I hope not.

Bozo and his new wife were out, and we had not seen them since their wedding. Toughie was there with his girl, plus Bitter and his wife. It was genuinely good to see all of them, and I need a new nickname for Bozo … how about Maroon. And his wife Dalia. So we’re all chatty and happy and Maroon made some jokey and obnoxious comment to Red Beard, and we’re laughing and then Red Beard says to our whole group, “When WE get married …[blah blah blah unimportant.]” Now he’s said this to me once before, this “When we get married…” and that made me smile. But to hear him say it in front of our friends was, not-so-eloquently-put, AWESOME!!! Ahhhssssuuuuuum. Me so happy.

Last night when we were lying in bed before we fell asleep, Red Beard said to me, “I love you forever.”

This morning I think I was still drunk when I woke up. The hangover has not hit me yet, which leads me to believe there is probably still a fair amount of booze in my system, and as it leaves, I will begin to feel like POOH. So in an effort to head the hangover off at the pass (great saying – head ‘em off at the pass. Conjures up cowboys on horses riding at high speeds. Anyway. Right Drunkie McDrunkenstein, finish the post, will ya) and so what I did was garner an egg, cheese and bacon sandwich on a croissant, which has pretty much guaranteed that the next time I see Red Beard, I will be slightly fatter than I am now. Especially in light of the fact that Basil just texted me that she’s at the airport with an entire backpack full of cookies. So. Not. Awesome. Because those cookies are going to magically jump into my mouth, of course. As are the beers and chowder when we’re in Bean Town.

Enjoy your weekends!

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