That's right. I'm going to a ball. A real live, non-fraternity-sponsored ball.
(It's been a while.)
Granted, this ball is at work. It's in a space where I am usually required to wear close-toed shoes and sweatproof clothing. But this evening? My toes will be flying free, baby. And, with the temperature where it is, I think that sweating will be totally out of the question.
But I'm super excited!
The excitement started with the dress-buying frenzy and its aftermath...the aftermath being that I couldn't find a certain lovely piece of jewelry. An expensive piece of jewelry. A piece of jewelry that hubby had bought for me for an anniversary.
A piece of jewelry that, being lost, had put me squarely up the proverbial creek without a paddle. (proverbial or otherwise.)
Stomachaches. Waking up in the middle of the night in a panic. How could I tell him that I had lost his gift? Oh, I had landed squarely in Bad Wife-ville, and I was just waiting for the cable company to come.
In the meantime I pretended that nothing was wrong. I shopped for a dress and fell in love with one that was beautiful, a teeny-tiny size that I will never, ever fit into again in my adult life.
A dress which would've required the wearing of said piece of jewelry.
I bought another dress. An equally lovely dress.
A dress that I could wear without the jewelry.
But today? Today I FOUND it. I FOUND IT!!!!!!!
The angels sang, the moms was notified and the prayers to St. Anthony ceased. (Well, temporarily, at least.) Texts were sent to my shopping pals and the friend that I unloaded on. Holy relief, Batman!
And now focus is squarely back where it should be...trying to achieve big hair, fixing the dings in my self-manicure (which was, I must say, pretty darn successful! Sally Hansen Quik-Dry, my friends!), looking forward to seeing my man looking exceptionally sharp, and getting all gussied up for a party.
See, even though I do have the sense of humor of one, I'm not really a 12-year-old-boy! I'm a girl!
(Sometimes even a girly girl!)
- Found objects.
- Football season!
- This cartoon. It's perfect.
- An excuse to get hubby into his tux. Mwahahahaaaaaa!