Apparently my company's had a good quarter.
Monday was giant cake day.
Tuesday was fruit and veggie trays.
Wednesday was bagels with cream cheese.
Thursday was cookie cake day.
Today is Friday.
Today is a department luncheon at Maggiano's.
Maggiano's is a fancy Italian resturant that I've never even managed to go to on a date.
So, since I'm probably not going to go on a date for the next fifteen years, I put on a clingy black wrap dress cut just above my knees. I carefully straighten my hair and part it to the side so that it flops over one side of my face, like a silky curtain. I wear peep toe platformed heels with little black ruffles along the toe. I am now four inches taller.
This luncheon is my date night.
Now, if only we could skip coming back to the office, drive off to a spectacular lookout and lay on the hood of our cars staring out at the rolling hillsides and puffy little trees. If someone could hold my hand and sigh with me while the cirus clouds roll overhead and the wind stirs the leaves along the pavement.
Then, then, it would be a good date.
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