Once upon a time there was the ‘Season’ in which Lords and Ladies spent hours getting dressed in their finest frippery and stayed out dancing until dawn. And then slept until noon the next day, because really, what else did they have to do besides eat, drink and be merry? My own season is about to start, but it’s a slight bit more common.
What season is it? Of course, it is the whirlwind of softball fund-raisers. It starts out with, if you come to ours, we’ll come to yours. Next thing I know every weekend I will be traipsing out in freezing ass weather to eat bad fish, soggy fries and all the draft beer I could want. Do you know how you feel the day after drinking all the draft beer you could want? Let’s just say I’ll be spending enough time in my bathroom to start contemplating new color schemes for it (again.)
These things tend to be held in drafty halls, which means I will have to wear something reasonably warm. As if I don’t feel fat enough I get to pile on a couple of layers to keep from getting frost bite. There aren’t even flowers, a band or candle light to hide your flaws. Just smelly fish, bad PA systems and harsh fluorescents. Eventually the beer and (they better have) jello shots will kick in and I won’t care so much.
I wanted to rest up for tonight, the first big opener. But I had to get up at some unholy hour to go to the hospital and have some tests run. I tried to nap this afternoon but people kept stopping by and calling on the phone. I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t my butler turn all of these people away? He just barked and barked adding to the general chaos. Good help is so hard to find these days.
The best I can hope for is to win a really good door prize, because I always lose my ass at the gaming tables. Now I have a little over an hour to get ready so I had better go. After all, I still need to track down my corset and have the maid dress my hair.
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