After my week-long social frenzy in Tucson, otherwise known as a work conference, I've come to the conclusion that people in my field must all be crazy, gambling alcoholics...or we naturally gravitate towards one other like beer-seeking missiles. No matter.
I told Patrick before I left that if he fed the cats (as opposed to locking them outside the entire week I'm gone, as he's prone to do), took care of the mail and other minor cleaning chores, AND I won at the casino, I'd give him $50. If, on the other hand, I lost? He'd get nothing. I have a good feeling about this year's Mother of the Year committee visit.
As I was standing in line at the hotel registration to get directions to the casino, four other conference attendees told me to come along with them - they had a designated driver! We must've talked about work a little bit - I have scribbles on bar napkins to prove it - then drank and threw down $100 bets with reckless abandon.
Once home, I gave Patrick some money so he could join his buddies at the beach for this final weekend of Spring Break, then found a styrofoam bucket full of fish in the office (?). I bought a glass aquarium, some plastic landscaping and fish food, only to find out they're bait for Patrick's new fishing hobby.
I also found out from Tiffany that my new pseudo-fiancé was out with another woman Friday night - thank goodness my impulsive self didn't jump on that wagon!
3 comments:
Yep, sounds like a tough week.
I assume he got that date from one of the seedy toilets you scribbled his number up on.
She must have a better stocked beer fridge than you.
Monty: she probably doesn't roll her eyes and make faces when ordered Miller products...
Are sure you didn't jump on that train?
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