Date Night and a Sunday of Sloth

J is marginally less itchy, so that’s good. Cute W and I still are still feeling unwell.

Nevertheless, we had a date night. It was sort of unavoidable. We’d bought tickets a while back to see Mike Doughty at The Linda. I mean, I’m generally pro-date night, but 45 minutes before the babysitter was due to arrive, I was lying in  bed, moaning. An hour before she was due to arrive, Cute W was sleeping. But we rallied.

Okay, but here’s the bad part. Last night, I received an email asking if I could do a job at church on Sunday. We hadn’t planned to go to church on Sunday. No one except M feels good, and Cute W actually has to work at a big meeting on Sunday afternoon (I know that’s ridiculous. His organization always has a meeting on Oscar night. How stupid is that?).

So this morning I was looking at the email, and I composed something like, “We weren’t planning on being there on Sunday because 3 out of 4 of us don’t feel good. But if you’re really desperate, I could come.” I asked Cute W, “How’s this?” And Cute W said, “You don’t want to go. You should just say no.” And I took a big pause. Because the truth is, I just totally wasn’t up for going or doing the job. And if I said that I could possibly do it, of course I would end up doing it. So, against my better judgement, I dropped the if-you’re-desperate disclaimer and just said “Sorry.” And then I left to take M to ice skating.

Sometime during the day, I realized that the person asking me to do a church job was the mother of our babysitter for the date night. Which, of course, I had known all along. But I’ve been so foggy-brained that I did not put together these facts to formulate the complete concept. That I am a scumbag who is apparently well enough to go on a date but unwilling to do a job the following morning at church. This all came to me when I was mpt at jp,e not at home. I resolved to send an addendum to the previous email with the deleted “But if you’re really desperate, I could come” line.

I arrived home, and Cute W yelled, “Hey, babysitter’s mom called! She wants to know if we still need a babysitter since we’re so sick!”

I thought that he was yanking my chain. No, he wasn’t.

He explained to me about how he explained to her about our long-ago-purchased tickets.

I sat down and put my head between my knees. “And did you tell her that if she’s desperate I can do it?”

“Yes,” he said, laughing. And I didn’t email or call her.  For now, I have no plans to go tomorrow. Hopefully when I do show up, there will not be pointing and muttering.