saturday, the Brit and I went to the pub to help the Kiwi celebrate his birthday. after working for eleven hours earlier that day, i was not in the mood to put in any effort to look snazzy.
me: okay, i’m ready to go.
brit: you look pretty…hey, wait. are you wearing a nightie?
me: yeah. so?
brit: nothing. you’re just funny.
me: well, i just want to be comfy. and it looks like a mini dress. and when we get home and i pass out, you won’t have to undress me – just toss me in the bed. i’m thinking about you see?
brit: always thinking ahead.
me: and that’s why you love me.
as it turns out, i didn’t immediately pass out when we got home. i ate a plate of chips and a cold piece of pizza and then passed out. martinis are EVIL.
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