Last night was this year’s big fat fundraising auction at work. It made for a sixteen hour day, the second half of which I was dressed to the nines, and complimented often. Near the end of the evening, when I was starting to marshal my volunteers and figure out how clean up would work, and when I would be able to take off my heels, a rather tipsy woman came up to and asked where the restroom was. I pointed it out, and then she told me she had had to smack her husband for watching me walk around.

I was somewhat at a loss for how one properly replies to that sort of comment, so I said it was a tailor made silk dress from Beijing.

A few weeks ago a girl in one of my classes jokingly called me a ‘bitter old bat’ — at 25, I’m apparently pretty ancient in the eyes of your average community college student — and now I apparently have homewrecking potential as well.

Not that I’m at all interested in anyone’s husband, as I have a perfectly wonderful boyfriend who was kind enough to carry me off the main banquet floor and back to the office to change when I suddenly reached the point that my feet hurt too much to stand up. Of course, not without requisite muttering about how everyone else was carrying useful things around, like tables.