I’m getting tired of this loner kick I’ve been on lately.
Hubby is off traveling for work all the time these days, and I seem to be spending entirely too much time all by my lonesome. Granted, I work at home anyway, so I’m used to having a good amount of “me” time, and that’s fine. But when the evenings roll around — night after night lately — and it’s still just me, doing my thing all alone? That part is starting to really get on my nerves.
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So. I’ve sent out the desperate cry-for-help e-mail to my core group of friends who are down with the last minute planning program. (Some of my equally dear friends require annoying things like advance notice and a three-month lead time to get them out on the town.)
Looks like there are plenty of things to do on a rainy Monday. Or a rainy Tuesday, Wednesday, or any other night.
Tonight, there’s a group going to the Bug Theater for Freak Train. And there’s another friend heading to see Cake and Gomez at Magness Arena tonight. Another friend kindly invited me to tag along to an early birthday party for someone I barely know before hitting the Larimer Lounge for M. Ward.
Yay! I DO have options that don’t include the couch, the TiVo, or talking aloud to my pets. (Okay, that’s pretty normal, but I’m talking entire conversations here lately.)
Tuesday, there’s a charity party at Mao, Wednesday is my kickball night if it stops raining (please?) and Thursday is Dining Out for Life. Friday I have happy hour plans at Tamayo, and then it’s the weekend and my cute boy will be back home. Then I can happily stay in, snuggled up on the couch with hubby and the furballs to watch movies, cook dinner, and stay in all weekend long.
Until next week, that is, when it starts all over again.