That’s right, I managed to land all those spills AROUND the napkin. WHY AM I NOT A GOALIE? WHY DID MY PARENTS PUT ME IN BALLET? WHY DID A STRANGER TELL MY DOG LUNA, F*#% YOU DOG! TODAY?
Okay, sorry, I’m getting carried away. I started asking questions, and then they all just tumbled on out. Kind of like the time as a kid when I was supposed to clean my room before my grandmother came over. I shoved everything into my closet and closed the door, satisfied. Then when my grandmother asked to see something in my closet (I clearly hadn’t thought of that prospect!)–well, she saw my closet and then everything else, too. I’m sure there’s a life lesson there.
(Ps I was very upset on behalf of what the stranger said to Luna. I still am, actually. I’d like to have a conversation with him. I’d like to ask him if maybe his parents didn’t give him consistent consequences for bad behavior while growing up and that’s why he’s acting like an ass today. I’d say it kindly, with all due respect. Namaste and all that.)
Anyway, my jeans are in the wash and my dear Luna is none the worse for the verbal abuse. I love Saturday nights because we all wake up together on Sundays and there’s no rush out the door for any of us (Charlee’s day off, you know).
Knowing that a slow bed-heady Sunday morning is right around the corner fills me with a version of that warm anticipation December brings for Christmas.
Happy weekend, friends. May the strangers you meet be kind and your bed head awesome.