Valentine Widow

It’s actually last night and I am sitting alone at my computer (sigh) because Brent is playing with the soothing sounds of the Velvet Brass tonight. The local dance club is giving tango lessons. Alas, when you’re a band groupie such as I, you never actually get to dance. (Sigh) And after you have kids you decide to stay home and watch them as opposed to paying a babysitter, so you can sit alone at the dance.

At least that’s what happened to me. (Sigh)
Well, don’t feel too sorry for me. I got to go on a real overnight date at a fancy schmancy hotel with fancy schmancy dinner in the Big City — well, the Big Sister City — for my anniversary on Friday. Dinner took two hours. Can you imagine?! And there wasn’t a chicken strip, nugget or finger in sight! Just a bottle of wine and three courses ending in passion fruit mousse and mixed berries. I mean what’s wrong with that? Nothing. Truly, it was lovely.
So now Big Daddy is paying for Friday’s dinner by playing the tango for other peoples’ Valentines. What of it? Every day is Valentine’s around here, right?

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