Dancing with myself

My week in review:
Self-loathing;
Busy-ness at work, followed by an excruciatingly slow day;
Watching the bulbs in the garden bloom;
Viewing depressing movies and promising myself to watch funnier stuff;
Recalling things that make me feel good that I had forgotten about.

The last item was another surprising discovery. Last weekend in Hampton I played skeeball, which was a wonderful release. The best quarter I ever spent. Last night I dragged L to the annual employee recognition dinner, which honors people who have worked for the city 5, 10, 15, 20 years and up, plus retirees. In the past it has involved drunken rants by the mayor and old boy stories by the police chief. Dinner is included. I pawned L into going last year by buying him drinks, and I did the same this year. 2 coworkers were being honored, so it's nice to attend and support them. After the meal, and speeches, there is music. I got up with my boss and co-worker, and I got down. And man, was it wonderful. I don't often have the chance to dance, except at home. It's part self-consciousness, and also the lack of a good place to dance. Tim, my first husband, made fun of my dancing. Stupidly I took that to heart. Although I'm not as bad as Elaine "Dry Heave" Benes, it's not Dancing with the Stars. Last night I didn't give a shit.



How did I forget all the good stuff?