...where do human beings come from...

The first call was to get me out of the house and to the G for Nik-Ro's birthday, to which I eventually agreed despite having just been in bed reading, pj's and all. The second call, as I was scrambling to get ready and out the door in 4 minutes flat was to tell me to dress up, because the boys were wearing suits. Exchanged my cowboy shirt for a collared white and grabbed my blazer when the third call came. "Dress like a girl dress-up!" says my girl. All these complications when all I want to do is get out of the house. Exchanged blazer for pink angora, pearls and black pinstripe pants and finally hit the road. Realize on the way that black bra shows through pink angora, don't go back because hey, it's hot.

I love how earlier in the night I promised I would stay in and read tonight. Instead I shlepped all the way back to the old digs for an hour and a half, just.

Not too many people would incite me to hop out of comfy bed and comfier pajamas. You have to be a fencing, linguistic-ing, American of Polish descent. Who drinks White Russians. And has a lot of demands for his friends wardrobes on his birthday extravaganza.

(The dress-up thing was understood later. "Look! I'm in my birthday suit!", he cries as I come in. Ha.)