T-minus four months…

Ah, work. Sigh.

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

George’s mom and I had dinner at our favorite place tonight, per usual. I think our dinner dates save our sanity during the workweek. Same place, same cocktails, same appetizer … only I deviate with the dinner choices.

We tried a new table outdoors. We usually pick one of the couches on the porch, as it’s usually always raining. But they added a lovely mosaic table this evening — and the weather is PERFECT — so we dined under the tiki torches and the stars. Aaaah, lovely.

We’re plotting our Paris rendezvous. We’re thinking Valentine’s Day, since our collective staff members think we’re a couple anyway. 😉 Also, it is a historically shitty holiday, so why not escape to the world’s most-romantic city with our favorite travel partners?

I wish we could go now. We CAN, of course. Or we could go a year from now. But the friend-of-a-friend there will be moving across the river to Germany. Which, is fine too.

I just never dreamed I’d get to Paris. And now … it’s all a matter of booking the trip.

I can’t stand my living situation. I’m at my wits’ end. I can’t believe I can be so aloof and annoyed and, yet, she refuses to take the hint and leave.

Then I wonder why I deserve an invitation to Paris — when I’m “so mean,” according to the fixture in my house … or is it because it’s a reward for my suffering?

And because Paris is my dream — my I-can-die-happy-place — does that mean my suffering is about to come to an end, one way or another?

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