The Saint Wins a Raffle
The Saint went out to a dinner-fundraiser with her friends the other night. I stayed home with Oldest Son, Middle Child and Daughter. We had a blast. They wore me out. I crashed at 9:30.
At 10:30, the Saint runs into the bedroom, shouting, "Adam!"
I ignore her.
She yells my name again.
Again, I ignore her.
When she says my name a third time, I realize that I'm not getting back to sleep until I acknowledge her.
"Hmm?" I mumble.
"We had a raffle at the fundraiser."
"That's nice."
I knew this already. Have I mentioned that earlier in the evening, she'd liberated the last $20 from my wallet? She spent it on raffle tickets.
"I won!"
"Great. That's lovely." The last time I won a raffle, I brought home bubble bath. Mine was free. I hope the Saint didn't pay all $20 for hers.
"It was $800 worth of stuff!" Visions of pedicures danced through my head. Chocolates, flowers, gift certificates for soaps, shampoos, more bubble bath, all kinds of feminine stuff that bores me... I was rapidly drifting back to sleep.
"We got a night at the Hyatt!
"And I get to drive one of these for a weekend!"
I'm happily dreaming again by this point, although I've always wanted to own a Navigator, which is funny, because I drive about 10 miles per week.
"And we get dinner here!" I snapped joyously awake, sure I heard Beethoven's Ninth playing in the background.
Have I mentioned how cool it is that the Saint entered the raffle? All this for only $20?
She won the anniversary package. Aside from the obligatory chocolates and cookies, yes, there was a facial. There was also a nice bottle of champagne, two glasses, dinner at a sushi place, and a bunch of other great stuff.
I just ordered her birthday present as well, a little late, but I think she'll like it. She picked it out, after all.
And this evening, she's out with her friends again. I think this is a good start to her vacation week.
In the meantime, I need to write. But I won't. Before I began this post, I dialed for dinner. I need to get the door. It's Domino's.
Adam
At 10:30, the Saint runs into the bedroom, shouting, "Adam!"
I ignore her.
She yells my name again.
Again, I ignore her.
When she says my name a third time, I realize that I'm not getting back to sleep until I acknowledge her.
"Hmm?" I mumble.
"We had a raffle at the fundraiser."
"That's nice."
I knew this already. Have I mentioned that earlier in the evening, she'd liberated the last $20 from my wallet? She spent it on raffle tickets.
"I won!"
"Great. That's lovely." The last time I won a raffle, I brought home bubble bath. Mine was free. I hope the Saint didn't pay all $20 for hers.
"It was $800 worth of stuff!" Visions of pedicures danced through my head. Chocolates, flowers, gift certificates for soaps, shampoos, more bubble bath, all kinds of feminine stuff that bores me... I was rapidly drifting back to sleep.
"We got a night at the Hyatt!
"And I get to drive one of these for a weekend!"
I'm happily dreaming again by this point, although I've always wanted to own a Navigator, which is funny, because I drive about 10 miles per week.
"And we get dinner here!" I snapped joyously awake, sure I heard Beethoven's Ninth playing in the background.
Have I mentioned how cool it is that the Saint entered the raffle? All this for only $20?
She won the anniversary package. Aside from the obligatory chocolates and cookies, yes, there was a facial. There was also a nice bottle of champagne, two glasses, dinner at a sushi place, and a bunch of other great stuff.
I just ordered her birthday present as well, a little late, but I think she'll like it. She picked it out, after all.
And this evening, she's out with her friends again. I think this is a good start to her vacation week.
In the meantime, I need to write. But I won't. Before I began this post, I dialed for dinner. I need to get the door. It's Domino's.
Adam
Labels: The Saint
posted by Adam Hurtubise at 6:28 PM
4 Comments:
Wow Adam, great minds think alike...in terms of the birthday present ;)
And thanks to the Saint. I got the facial....did I tell you she rocks as a friend?
She rocks as a wife, too.
The Saint deserved to win that prize. And since a sitter was not included--you should call on the folks to stay with the urchins.
Yes, Mom, I will. Consider yourself called on.
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