Tonight my mom has taken our daughter for the night because my husband has planned an evening out.  We have to be in downtown Toronto by 5:30 for dinner reservations and then there is a surprise planned.  I am trying to get dressed, which is very difficult because I don’t know where I am going.

“The dress is formal,” my husband helpfully informed me a few days ago.

“Formal??” I asked, “Like gown formal?”  (I am going SHOPPING!!)

“No, no…but nice.  Dressy.”

“Dressy like how?”  I asked, “Like a cocktail dress and heels?”

“Sure,” he said.  “I’m wearing a sweater and black pants.”

“But a sweater isn’t really dressy…”  I was getting confused.

“Well, just no jeans.  Or…jeans, but nice jeans.”

Okay, now we’ve gone from a gown to nice jeans.  What the heck was I supposed to wear?

My husband helpfully laid on the bed while I tried on clothes.  He offered, “How about black tights and a white blouse?”

“WHAT?  I’ll look like Peg Bundy!!

He came into the closet and picked out a top that I splurged on last year.  It is black, off one shoulder and has sequins all over it.  He grabbed my black yoga pants and told me that would look great together.

Sigh…

I put it on and examined myself dubiously in the mirror.

“I look…I look…”

“Hot?” he offered helpfully.

“No.  Um.  Like a…uhhh…you know!”  I struck a John Travolta pose.  “A Solid Gold Dancer!!

My husband frowned.  “Well, when you do that, you do.”

ARRRGGGH!  “I have no clothes!” I moaned.

“You have no clothes?”

“Well, they are all old…”

“Then you have a lot of old clothes.”

Aside from making suggestions about what should go under my clothes, he was very little help, except for comic relief.

I can only hope that there actually are plans for tonight.  This morning my husband drove us to a hockey game an hour away from home.  We arrived at noon and the game was at three.  He thought it might be prudent to go and check the tickets.

Wish me luck….

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