Party Time?

It’s 4:48pm. I’m showered, dressed, and waiting on The Warden.

I got off work a little after three and headed home. I called The Warden to make sure that she’d received my email confirming the time of tonight’s retirement party/dinner I told her about three weeks ago. She had. This was at 3:20pm.

She went on to tell me she had a 4:00pm appointment to get her nails done, then had to buy a new pair of shoes for the occasion (another one of those things taught to females in the super-secrecy of Woman School). I acknowledged her and headed for the store myself to buy some unrelated clothes. I was in and out with a shirt, a t-shirt, and some underwear in less than 15 minutes (would’ve been 10 if it weren’t for the couple bickering with a cashier and the manager).

So anyway…It’s 4:51pm and The Warden has yet to arrive. She still has to shower, dry her hair, get dressed, and primp. Think we’ll make the beginning of the 6:00pm social? I think not. At least we’ll make the dinner…I hope.

I appeal to the dean of Woman School to heed my advice for curriculum change:
”The Woman, with sufficient advance notice, should be party-ready well enough in advance to afford timely arrivals at The Man’s social/business functions. This will preclude The Man’s having to give an explanation of the delayed arrival without actually dropping dime on The Woman, who was the real cause of the tardiness.”

It’s 4:57 as I post and still – No Warden.

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Memory Du Jour:
Sometime between 1978/1980
Sitting in dry (sometimes running) irrigation ditch by my house in AZ having long talks with Nancy about girl/guy problems and how "tough" we had it.

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Quote of the Day:
"Man. If that bitch don't get her pretty soon......I'm gonna have to wait some more. -- Cheech Marin, Up in Smoke