Notice I'm not sleeping in, which is kind of ironic and not surprising at all. I'm so used to the kids getting me up earlier and the pets wanting to be fed that I am up regardless.
Last night was fun. I played third wheel on a date with Daniel and Schuyler and they took me to see a movie in another language (Korean, I think) with no subtitles so it was very difficult to figure out what happened. Then we went to what had to be the world's most dimly-lit Italian restaurant, where they make these GIGANTIC overstuffed tortellinis and at every bite you promise you're done. But then they pour more wine and bring more baskets of olive-oil-soaked bread, and before I knew it, it was after midnight and they had pulled the tables back and turned the music up and we were dancing.
Okay, they were dancing.
I was watching for a long time and eventually the bread ran out too and Daniel gave me his coat because they had opened the doors to the patio for some air and the elderly owner came over and offered me his arm so I did a waltz with him, very slowly. Twice around. Older men have no issues, he stared into my eyes, a delighted smile on his face, sure feet, sure hands. Schuyler has video. Everyone stopped dancing and I got this twinge as we moved. Like why am I here? What in the hell am I doing in this fun and dark little place wearing my husband's little brother's suit coat over my dress dancing intimately with a seventy-year old (at least) man whose name I don't even know and I felt like there was a rock in my stomach and a lump in my throat.
Eventually the music faded and I was passed on to Daniel's arm for the walk to the car, through the snow in my little high heels and thin black wool coat. Lochlan was waiting up. He asked if we had a good time and I said it was the best, save for the homesickness. I was halfway up the stairs and I stopped when I realized he was still talking from the living room below.
It sucks, being a grownup sometimes, doesn't it, princess?
No, Lochlan, it really doesn't. I just danced with a man who is far away from home, too. If I could give him a moment from his memory when he was a young man, dancing with a pretty girl while people clapped, and have the music, the food and everything else the same? Then it definitely didn't suck. By default, I think I learned something.
What's that?
I definitely need to have more fun.
He didn't say anymore and I came upstairs and had a hot shower, tossed my beautiful dress in the hamper, noticing for the first time exactly how much wine and olive oil I had spilled on it, decided I didn't care, and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
No dreams.
