It doesn't take much...
He flew in on Friday night. I should have known the weekend would not follow my carefully constructed plan when his flight was 22 minutes late. I hadn't allotted for a 22-minute delay, dammit.That wasn't in the spreadsheet.
We met my sister and brother-in-law for dinner. "Meet" was the operative word, as we double-parked in front of the conveniently located valet parking stand... only to stare at the valet parking sign. Can a valet really be out to lunch? I didn't think that was possible. In a pissy temper, I peeled away (that's giving my Pontiac much more horsepower credit than she's due), recklessly flying down side streets looking for four feet of open curb. My serpentine reconnaissance was successful and we eventually made it to dinner.
The rest of the weekend followed suit. Saturday afternoon I dragged him to school for a painful financial aid talk I had committed to. A beautiful run in the afternoon morphed into "Quasimodo" meets "A River Runs Through It", after he wrenched a hamstring. A night on the town was thwarted by a suspect pitcher of mind-altering margaritas at dinner, and we were tucked away at home by 9:30pm.
Sunday morning was spent in quiet confinement, as I dug myself out of the backlog of readings and case studies I had postponed for the weekend.
It was not the romantic weekend I had mapped out. But I am more in love than ever before.
We met my sister and brother-in-law for dinner. "Meet" was the operative word, as we double-parked in front of the conveniently located valet parking stand... only to stare at the valet parking sign. Can a valet really be out to lunch? I didn't think that was possible. In a pissy temper, I peeled away (that's giving my Pontiac much more horsepower credit than she's due), recklessly flying down side streets looking for four feet of open curb. My serpentine reconnaissance was successful and we eventually made it to dinner.
The rest of the weekend followed suit. Saturday afternoon I dragged him to school for a painful financial aid talk I had committed to. A beautiful run in the afternoon morphed into "Quasimodo" meets "A River Runs Through It", after he wrenched a hamstring. A night on the town was thwarted by a suspect pitcher of mind-altering margaritas at dinner, and we were tucked away at home by 9:30pm.
Sunday morning was spent in quiet confinement, as I dug myself out of the backlog of readings and case studies I had postponed for the weekend.
It was not the romantic weekend I had mapped out. But I am more in love than ever before.
posted by Michael at 4:31 PM
6 Comments:
I think I'm going to puke.
I guess I understand you anonymous.
As a Dj I could observe(specially at small gatherings) that anytime I play a nice, somehow touching lovesong ...where people is obviously not having a love relationship, then all kinds of strange colours and faces show up.
I thought it was sweet but then again. That's how things work out with me and mine also! Good luck to you both!
Why is it that no matter how hard or carefully you plan a romantic weekend it never goes just according to plan?? However...since you feel even more in love that before...Sounds like a good weekend to me!
It was sweet. There's nothing wrong with that.
I'm glad you're happy.
That is so sweet! :-)
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