Friday night excitement

Here’s what passes for excitement on a Friday night in my house. I sit on the couch eating popcorn. Snowy sits as close to me as possible without actually crawling into my skin. He watches anxiously as each piece of popcorn goes into my mouth waiting for that one stray broken off piece to fall onto my bathrobe. When it finally falls, he eyes it intently, his eyes darting back and forth from the little piece of popcorn to my eyes to see if I’m making any sign that it is forbidden. He nose sniffs ever so gently closer and closer to the popcorn piece, all the while his eyes keep darting to my face. Finally, convinced I will not miss that little piece, he lunges for it as gracefully as he can and sighs triumphantly when he succeeds in vacuuming it up. Then he sits back and resumes the vigil, waiting for the next piece of heaven to accidentally fall from my fingers.

In my youth, I needed to be the belle of the ball. If I didn’t have plans for a Friday or Saturday night, it was devastating. Oh how our aspirations change with age. Now I’m content to be the belle of my own ball, watching my dog catch popcorn while enjoying Big Bang reruns. I think I have more fun now than I did then. Maybe it’s because I don’t have to wear a bra or tight pants to my own living room. Maybe it’s because my dogs look at me as though I am the most amazingly wonderful and beautiful person they’ve ever seen even with messy hair and no makeup so long as my hand is anywhere near a bag of treats. I only know it’s a lot easier to have fun and be content now than it ever was then.