A week ago I wrote about breaking free from my self-imposed semi-reclusion, and ended by saying I plan to spend the remainder of the year shaking it up, just in time for party season. To kick things off, I accompanied my husband to work-related function last night.
Highlights of the evening included having a five minute conversation with a spitter. Under normal circumstances I would have backed up a couple of feet, but it was super crowded, and so I was stuck 8 inches from this dude’s face. Practically every word was gin infused and saliva-flecked. The guy is a contact of my husband’s, so I managed to refrain from letting him know how utterly repulsed I was, though it took every ounce of self-control. When I managed to get away to find my man, he immediately asked me what was wrong. After I relayed the awful situation he offered up his sweater so I could wipe the cooties from my face and told me he was proud I didn’t tell the guy to back the fuck up.
An hour later as we were making the rounds to say our goodbyes, some woman saw my husband and rushed to give him a hug, and elbowed me in the nose. Hard.
When I said I needed to get out of my comfort zone, getting spit on and elbowed wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. That almost never happens at home, unless it’s one of the dogs, and at least they wag their tails during the process.
Tomorrow we have another party to attend, I’m hoping no one pours salsa down my back while taking a baseball bat to my knees.
Happy Friday y’all.