Today was Bly’s birthday. As part of her present, I promised not to bite my friend Thomas no matter how obnoxious he was.
And I didn’t. Not when he declared outside the restaurant Bly wanted that “this place isn’t worth a forty-five minute wait.” Not when he told Hope to “just go” to the restroom up by the front door and on the other end of the building from where we were seated, when I’d just told her twice she’d been in the bathroom ten minutes before and didn’t need to go again.
Not even when he threatened to throw my computer in a pond because I get wrapped up in it “too much.”
My dear friend was not at his best tonight. He’s been my good friend for a very long time, though, so I’ll continue to refrain from killing him. For a few more days anyway.
Nope, no writing. Damn social crap.