We have a party this weekend, that I had completely
forgotten about. (By 'we' I mean my wife and I, not my work venue.)
I can't remember this being mentioned before and I swear I don't even recognise
the name of the person whose birthday, or engagement, (or whatever) is, who
sent the invite. I tried to get out of it by offering to 'sacrifice my own
enjoyment' and stay home to look after the boys, so Philippa could go and have
fun without the family, but she said, "No, no, it's fine, it's a family
event. We're all going."
So now we're all going.
It's quite a drive as well, and obviously we'll have to pack enough stuff to keep
our one-year-old and our nearly-five-year-old safe and comfortable, so I may
have to rent a large trailer to tow behind us just to make sure we can take
everything we need.
I hate to sound uncaring and unsociable but I was really looking forward to a
quiet couple of days at home; building Lego sets with Mathew and watching some
tennis (ATP Tour Finals concludes on Sunday) and some NFL. Now, instead, I'll be
making small talk with people I have nothing in common with and driving for
four hours in total while an energetic youngster complains about being stuck in
a car again.
Or... maybe, just maybe... it'll be a lovely event and I'll make new friends
and have a really nice time and Mathew will be a joy and it'll all be wonderful
and enjoyable.
Why do I always look ahead to things with anxiety and with the expectance of a
negative experience???
Hmmm - that therapist idea is sounding attractive again.
RC 16-11-23
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