Dream Big, Lady

My husband is coming home late tonight.

He called me and asked if I had started supper (it was done already, a casserole) because he wanted to stay late at work.

For a poker game.

They do that sometimes. They sit around in the boardroom and order in fast food and play poker.

One of his friends who is also a co-worker is leaving this company for a new job at another (crappy ass) company at the end of this week, and so the guys thought it might be nice to have one last poker night as a send off. Hopefully, sending him off with considerably emptier pockets.

I’m not one of those wives who freaks out if her husband decides to stay out a little late because the gang wants to have a poker night. Oh no. As a matter of fact, I’m all for it.

I get things done here, I have some quiet time, I can work out, I can listen to music…

But mostly?

I want him to win a WHOLE LOT OF MONEY.

I want him to win SO MUCH MONEY that we could roll around in it.

I want him to win SO MUCH MONEY that he can keep me in the style to which I WANT to become accustomed.

Sigh.

That ain’t gonna happen, lady. Not with a bunch of computer geeks eating pizza and playing to a $20 limit.

BAH.

Oh well, at least I can watch a chick flick uninterrupted. SWEET!

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