Playing Hooky.

So... the Manfriend and I had a date on Sunday night. We spent Friday night out with other people. And I am going to be out of town all next weekend.

So we made a date.

Then there were technological issues.

And I couldn't get ahold of him. Because his phone battery wasn't in properly.

And he couldn't hear me knocking on his front door. Because he was in his attic bedroom.

And the dog didn't bark. Probably because the dog knows who I am.

It was a bad night. And there was no date. But I'm still going to be out of town all weekend.

You see, despite my advancing years and supposed emotional maturity, I don't deal with disappointment well. It makes me angry. I get all tensed up, I grind my teeth, my stomach ties itself in knots and then sinks into a pit of its own making. Kind of like a black-hole in my intestinal regional.

And I usually I get all tight in the throat and there are prickles in my eyes.

I'm really a very emotional person. Really.

Disappointments, especially ones in which there is no blame to be assigned, make me unbelievably nervous. I believe in an anthropomorphized Universe, you see, a Universe that acts and thinks and feels and attempts to push me onto paths that it thinks I should travel. Disappointments with no obvious source of blame are the work of this anthropomorphized Universe.

Why does the Universe not want me to get any?

WHY DOES THE UNIVERSE HATE ME?

I have decided that the Universe was instead offering me an opportunity to do what he and I have not done in this latest round of dating: spend time together in daylight.

So tomorrow, I am going to take advantage of all of this luxurious paid personal leave I have with my grown up job with grown up benefits, and I am going to play hooky.

This is what grown ups do with their sick time, right? I mean... they don't actually save it for when they're sick? Do they?