The Boy is off for his first camp sleep over night tonight. Just one night. It's in the field at Dovercourt. Neither one of us is terribly stressed out over this.
A co-worker told me I should visit the sex shop across the street from the office and pick up some stuff for this evening. Then and there I decided that there are some people I don't want to discuss my sex life with. Ever. She is one of them. I explained that whipped cream and chocolate sauce belonged in a bowl and not to mention clean up would be a bitch. Happy to bring out the prude once in a while.
Besides, I don't feel to seek out advice to spice up my sex life nor I don't really want to discuss my hang ups at work. In fact, I'd rather not discuss it all with anyone and doubly not with a co-worker. (Wouldn't you rather just do it?) What I wanted to do was sit there with my hands over my ears and and go "lalalalalalalal I can't hear you because I'm singing so loudly." Heck I don't even want to discuss it with my friends. This was just so wrong. Boundaries people boundaries. (Yet, I'll blog about it. Embrace the contradiction.)
All to say, tonight we ordered a pizza. I'm catching up on blogs and he's saving he's building a new civilization or some such sim game. We'll sit in the quiet that we thinkers and dreamers love some much... and then... I'll go to bed early... because tomorrow... tomorrow...
Pearl Jam is in Toronto. And I've got tickets... and I'm only a little bit excited.
