(There I am– all eyeballs, I know. All dressed up with someplace to go!)
We went out on Saturday night. It felt all kinds of weird and awful, to be honest, to be going to a Christmas party while our community reeled with the fresh grief over Friday’s shootings.
But we went.
I rocked this dress:
(I wore a blazer over it– this was a work party, after all.)
And I sipped a Grinch-tini that matched that mint dress perfectly.
All-in-all, it was pretty nice.
We nibbled appetizers and chatted over our before-dinner drinks. I re-met my husband’s boss and co-workers and explained what the heck it meant to be a blogger. All good.
And then the music started.
My ears! They were hurting!
My chest! It was pounding with the heavy bass of the music!
My brain! It couldn’t handle another verse of Gangnam Style!
Misery, I tell you.
We ducked out early. We couldn’t handle it.
I guess that’s what happens when you put two 36-year olds together at a noisy party…
We turn into one cranky 72-year-old.