Dave and I did it.
Registered for a dance class, you little pervs. 😉
We’ll be nightclub dancing for the next six weeks. He swears he has three left feet, and let’s face it, I have no rhythm. This should make for massive entertainment and/or injury. I look forward to giving progress reports once we start the lessons next week!
I have so much to do at work, yet a decided lack of enthusiasm keeps ruining it. It’s the week of mandatory, senseless meetings — which as always seems to conflict with Deadline Week. Ergh. Figures.
Escaped with Shan today to eat lunch in the sunshine. It’s gorgeous out here in NoVa today! And it’s about frickin’ time, too.
The Bennigan’s by my building is closing at the end of the month, from the latest bit of news I’ve heard. Not that I go there much anymore, but I will have to say a fond farewell once I put this issue of the magazine to bed.
So I’m signing up for dance lessons tonight, at the urging of a friend. Nightclub dance, too. This should be fun, and I definitely need the exercise as well as the distraction from the all-consuming black cloud that is otherwise known as my life.
Had a wicked bout of insomnia last night, after two solid nights of sex dreams. Egads. Maddie was being a noisy little shit, whining and bitching and knocking stuff over. She also found a shopping bag to dance in, on and around, so all I could hear was crumpling brown paper several times during the night. She gets pissed that I lock her in my room every night, but if I lock her out, she whines, and as I don’t live alone, I would prefer to not have my door open when I’m sleeping. So Tiff, I apologize if I woke you with my constant screaming at the little monster! 😉 It’s not like I was asleep and missing out on it. Gaah.