So I’m in the middle of this self-guided study through the history of Christian scriptures and textual criticism and am finding out some really fascinating things about how Christianity almost came to be, before the Orthodox Christians won out and stamped out all the conflicting ideals.

Me: … and so there was this group called the Gnostics, who - are you snoring?

Him: Hmm??? …No…

Me: You were snoring.

Him: I was listening. You’re reading about the Gnostics who did something.

Me: You fell asleep while I was talking to you.

Him: …I love you…?

Me: But you could care less about my book.

Him: I’m interested. I was listening. And then…I was waking up. But I do want to hear about your book.

Me: Tomorrow.

Him: Tomorrow.

Just for the record, if…

• You are going to work today specifically because nobody else will be there
• You have only enough gas for 1 trip between home and office
• It’s 20° outside

…it’s important to bring your office keys with you. Or, barring that, at least remember that you need your office keys BEFORE you pull into the office parking lot.

Just saying…

I’m pretty indifferent about Valentine’s Day.

I know there are a lot of people out there who really hate it with a vengeance and are so repulsed at the very mention of the occasion that you can actually see the skin on their face start to shrivel and peel away.

I don’t have that alien nuclear radiation effect. I just don’t really care much about it.

I’m not a romantic. Not by any stretch of the imagination. We usually don’t get presents for each other on Valentine’s and prefer to do dinner out the night before or after to avoid the crowds.

Two years ago I found out on Valentine’s that I was pregnant, so we did the whole dinner reservations thing and I bought J a pooper-scooper for the litter box to initiate the beginning of his 9 months of having sole litter box duty on account of my pregnancy.

See. Not a romantic.

But last night my parents offered to take Little Button for the night so we could have an evening out. I didn’t know what to do with that. I mean, it was VALENTINE’S DAY, oh dreaded Day of 5-Hour Restaurant Waiting Times and No Available Reservations.

I hate waiting at restaurants. HATE IT. Remember that alien nuclear radiation effect? Yeah, I get that about waiting.

But it was an opportunity for a NIGHT OUT - as in, just the two of us - that rare and sacred opportunity that I must hold to my bosom and pet and cherish, lest it disappear forever. That precious glimpse of our past lives, free of responsibility and diapers.

While we wouldn’t give up our current situation for anything, there’s a mystical and almost naughty quality about The Night Out - something that defies understanding makes it entirely irresistible.

Ergo, even I, the Reigning Supreme Hater of Restaurant Wait Times could not turn down The Night Out.

So we joined the rest of the world and went out to eat on Valentine’s Day.

J called a restaurant and was told the current wait time was only 15 minutes (gasp!). But by the time we packed up Little Button, took her to my parents, and made it over there, the wait time had become 2 hours.

TWO HOURS??? This was not a fancy, exclusive restaurant. This was a typical steak & potatoes place. Not even The Night Out could overcome the agony of spending that much time waiting for a table.

I told J I was NOT sitting there for 2 hours and we went home and watched Bones and American Idol.

Two hours later, we went back.

Zero wait time. Night Out. Texas Twist Margarita.

BLISS.

Not you.  Well, you can if you want to.

I’m currently waiting on 2 emails, one that I don’t really want to get, and one that I reallyreallyreally want to get like RIGHT NOW RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE LIKE IT NEEDS TO BE HERE FIVE MINUTES AGO AND SOMETHING MUST BE WRONG BECAUSE IT’S NOT HERE YET AND I’VE CHECKED MY EMAIL 20 TIMES IN THE LAST 10 MINUTES AND WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS TO ME????

Yep.  I need a life.