Do so love going out on a school night. Must be some sort of throw-back to days of UMF and the "live-under-my-roof-obey-my-rules" days. Now, do know that am not the only teen to have suffered from such ill logic in the growing up years, but UMF's reign of control was particularly heinous. Fortunately, though, perfected art of sneaking out (and in) with great stealth. And for friends with equally difficult parents, perfected art of buttering up authority figures. Was quite good at it, if may say so. And not in Eddie Haskell sort of way. Could have taught that boy a thing or two about sincerity. Is huge difference between 'buttering up' and 'laying on the cheese.'
Met galpal for dinner and cocktails at new neighborhood swank spot. Had giggly conversations centered around the usual galpal items of business, as well as serious talks about life, liberty and pursuit of J. Was v. good therapy.
Trudged home in snow and climbed into requisite hot bath just as phone rang. Was not J requesting time for much needed and important chat. Indeed not. Was UMF wanting to hear her daughter's "cheerful voice." Good thing was actually feeling cheerful. Was impossible not to. Was a few gin and tonics under, and in middle of v. warm, scented bath thinking happy thoughts about bedtime. Not even UMF and tragic stories of poison ivy and what "your sister did this time" could deflate. Luckily, was v. brief conversation.
This morning, however, woke to not-so-elated feeling after having horrid dream. Showed up at J's place, knocked on door and horror or horrors, was opened by Whoring Co-worker, sporting sex hair and J's pajamas. Calmly went in, retrieved favorite DVD from shelf and left. Needless to say, when woke, had handful of Hershey's Kisses for breakfast. But only because am out of ice cream.