Sunday Clothes

Last night, I went to a swing dance. It was the type where you pay $5 to get in, and then for an hour and a half you get taught moves you already know before being 'turned loose' on your own. At these events, being a girl is a pretty boring job - not the dancing, but the interminable waiting by the sides of the room to dance. See, there are never enough guys at dances like that, so if you don't have a special someone to keep you occupied for the evening, dance nights tend on the dull, tedious side of the spectrum.

That being said, I need to confess that sometimes I'm in the mood for 3 hours spent looking pleasant for no purpose. But last night was not one of those nights. I was feeling very tired, slightly sick, and lethargic, and going to a dance was the last thing I wanted to do. However, I'd already rsvped for the dance, and so I was stuck between the horns of a dilemma: I could stay home and read, and that would look awkward for me not to show up, or I could go and not enjoy myself. As you already know, I took the second option.

I had to keep this song in mind for the whole evening: Put on your Sunday clothes from Hello, Dolly!

Hehe. I suppose you're waiting for a moral to the incredibly meaningless story. Here. The moral of this story is to look both ways before crossing the street.

Keep thinking,
B