This week is promising to be a very exciting week. On Wednesday, we have a dinner with my boss's boss and all her staff. For some historical reason, I am considered part of her staff despite the fact that I no longer work for her. So we'll be dropping The Childrens off at one of HannahC's friend's houses along with some pizzas and then heading to a fancy restaurant in Olde Towne.
I try to keep my work life and home life separate, as like all great performers, I play a different role at work (decisive, argumentative, possibly somewhat insane technical leader) than at home (passive, brooding slave to wife's every whim). I'm not quite sure which role to affect whilst surrounded by co-workers in the presence of The Mrs., and of course, there's the risk that the two sides may catch on to my flexible personality and like the other side better.
Then on Thursday I turn 40. A sad day, really, as I'm supposed to stop binge drinking when I turn 40. This despite the fact that it is Fat Camp night and Rico has insisted on driving me, since it's my birthday and all. I'm leaning towards just not going rather than putting up with all the psychological abuse I'd have to take from The Mrs. if I had the slightest, teeniest, tiniest hangover Friday morning.
See, I'm already over the hill. Every morning when I get up, I groan with pain. I am not now, nor ever have I been, a morning person. Yet, The Mrs. has decided that these symptoms of approaching death that I exhibit each and every morning take on a whole new meaning on Friday morning. Yes, instead of marking imminent return to the dust from which we are all made, she interprets it as a sure sign of me having been happy the night before.
And we certainly cannot stand for that. Nope. Not one iota.
My favorite is when she walked in on me once while I was sitting down to put on my socks and said, "Too hungover to stand up, huh?"
No. I'm just to old to be able to balance on one foot while putting my socks on first thing in the morning before I've had my coffee. But you just keep on telling yourself that you can nag me into being young again.
Though, if nagging were all it took, married men would live a lot longer than single men.
Then Friday is another "Kids Night Out," where we drop The Childrens off at the museum and get to go to a fancy restaurant in Olde Towne. We are at this point flummoxed as to where to go. I'm pretty sure it won't be to Lucky Joe's for the fish-n-chips special.