The fiance’ left for his mom’s today to spend some time with his little brother and to escape my mood swings, which seem to drift between tears and shouting. His mom looked baffled at me when she asked what I was doing for the day.
“Coffee with BC in the afternoon.”
“And then?” she asked.
“Do you want me to come pick you up later? You’ll be all alone.”
And I laughed. “I am perfectly fine with being alone.”
And I am. BC called to say he was still in bed lingering over a book most of the day, so I did the same until he was ready to head over. I grabbed my notebook and curled up in the back of the coffeehouse for a while, had a delicious almond drinking chocolate, and when he showed up, we ordered a feast and more drinks- including the best pot of tea I think I have ever had in my life. We talked about the fiance’, his boyfriend, politics, the 90’s, bad fashion, stuffwhitepeoplelike.com, middle eastern groceries, bellydancing, work, and anything else- performing our usual cabaret of sarcasm and debate and laughter. We laughed until tears rolled down both our faces and my stomach hurt and then we did it again. And when we finally looked up to see how long we’d been lingering? Five hours had passed. Five hours. Exactly what I the doctor ordered.
I came home to a tivo’d bellydancing workout, so I strapped on my new jingly hip scarf and slid the coffee table out of the way and shimmied and shook to my heart’s content (and my abs’ dismay). I’m not the most graceful or sensual dancer ever, but I make up for it with enthusiasm, I swear. I have never wanted to get home to a workout. I actually did crunches voluntarily- I want to be able to actually do something with my stomach other than fill it with fried foods. I never would have believed it myself.
And now it’s that delicious quiet hour when I have the whole house to myself for the whole night and I can drag out the crafty box and make something. Or pull down a book from the bookshelf and quilt my Granny made and zone out on the couch. Or drift off to sleep and think about what to do with my morning.
Because the world is my oyster today. Mine all mine. And I’m not sure if my stomach hurts more from laughing or dancing, but either one is a great reason to be sore on a Saturday.