Well, we did it. Rachel and I went out to a nightclub with a friend, stayed until closing, had fun, chatted amicably, even danced a bit. Yet we didn't turn into morning hobgoblins. So, now I know that it is possible, just unlikely. The transformation into a monster of morning need not happen every single time. It is written anew.
So, we had our New Years celebration on the Friday before. Now, we will kitten up and lick our wounds, though they are mild. We were mild, adultish even.
Wait, adultish sounds like the delicious sin of old commandment cross-hovel passion much more than how I intended.
Anyway, we went out and had fun and did not get too terribly harmed by it. It is possible.
Now, we sit around the house waiting for the inevitable imaginary time to arrive.
The boy seemed to be tiring of only adult interactions. So, I dressed up as a pirate with him, made a ship on the couch, then began a mini adventure that ended with him storming another ship unexpectedly from the one that had sailed up next to it in the darkness.
That's it, really. The last day of the most recent year.
The hour spent as pirates, bouncing ship.
.
