I don’t ask for much. At least I don’t THINK I do. So, when I selected my chosen attire (read: costume) for our school’s annual gala fundraiser last weekend, I just assumed Dave would be all in. The theme was ‘There’s No Place Like Home.’
There were, of course, some Dorothy-related get-ups here and there but mostly dressy cocktail attire. Men in suits, women in sparkly dresses, jewelry with matching handbags and heels. Oh, the torturous heels. (Shudder) I saw the party as a chance to make one of my simpler dreams come true.
What does ‘home’ mean to me? Easy. But Dave wasn’t so sure. So I let him off the hook.
And I was very happy in my pajamas. We ate, we drank, we took chances in the auction, we danced to the musical stylings of Band Camp … and then it happened. I should mention that we only live a few minutes from the location of this big event. Close enough that while I caught up with a few (informed) friends, Dave was able to run home and remedy a little something.
Here’s how he looked when he came back.
So maybe it wasn’t a lucky night at the auction table but I sure felt the odds were in my favor otherwise. Thanks, Dave, for being one of the only other fools in costume with me last weekend. You have to admit … we were easily the most comfortable people at the party.
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Trifecta’s weekly prompt: Write something between 33 and 333 words using the 3rd definition of the following word: