Divine Friday

The universe has smiled upon me, today, folks. Today, I am working from home. Today, I did not fight traffic for an hour. Today I am not slowly freezing to death under four layers of polypro, nay, today I am wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants and basking in the heat of the oven that is our home office. Today I drink hot chocolate not for the feeling it gives back to my fingertips, but for the sugar rush of the stale marshmallows.

God I love stale little marshmallows.

Today is a good day. Yesterday wasn’t so bad, either, since Kanga decided we should stop working early to go get a drink. Yes! Yes! Yes! I want to get these people imbibed so that they can tell me the incestuous history of their past.

It wasn’t as dramatic as I was hoping for, but still, I got a little more insight. Tulip made a tiny jab at Bar-B about getting her extensions redone (and I gotta side with Tulip on this one, they are looking a little nappy and grown out) after Kanga and Barb-B kept going on and on about a trip they had taken through Australia’s Outback, back in the day. Then they got to talking about Hay-Soos, whom I still have yet to meet. (He’s the millionaire owner out in California who’s currently dating Bar-B, lest anyone forgot.) Barb-B mentioned how his pants are awfully tight, and Kanga made a little quip about that probably being because she was in them….

I waited for a snotty retort while consuming vast amounts of calamari, but when none came, I polished off my cabernet and said I should get going.

Drinking with coworkers is fun, but I didn’t want to be the drunk one. Quite yet. So I was totally sober as I began the trek home, and checked my voicemail while dodging idiots in SUVs on the highway during yet another snowstorm. (And by “snowstorm” here I mean “lightly drizzling icy rain” but it was equally dangerous, and “blizzard” is less time-consuming to write, so I’ll just go with it.)

Then there was a lovely message from Reverend Jones saying he can’t wait to meet me later tonight.

Eh?

Me = not so much religious.

Me = not drunk, either, or so I thought, but I couldn’t imagine having called a reverend sober. Somehow, I thought the universe was playing another trick on me, having allowed me the fun of thawing over alcohol with my intriguing new colleagues, it was now going to throw a little religion my way.

Then Reverend Jones said, “Don’t worry, marriage counseling is fun, it’ll be a good night,” and I remembered, holy crap! Marriage counseling! I almost missed our first session because I was drinking with a bunch of people I wanted to get dirt on. Way to get off on the right foot with Jesus.

So I began dodging idiot SUVs going in the opposite direction, and actually made it to the church on time.

It actually wasn’t bad, I think The Funasaurus and I both found it interesting.

And then we came home, binged on popcorn and chips (yeah nutritional dinner!) and called it a night. This morning we slept in a bit, enjoying our time together, and then The Funasaurus headed off to work while I sat around debating whether pants were really necessary in such a warm, cozy house.

I compromised, and went for pajama pants, which should still set the mood for an awesome weekend.

T.G.I.F., indeed.