I know, I know, it's a Wednesday evening, and I've already broke out the FWP (as a tribute to my auntie's who read this blog, I'm enjoying a bountiful blackberry merlot). In the past three days I have judged 17 one-act plays, substituted, and had an argument with my best friend.
I deserve the wine!
The plays were fairly good. Substituting went fine, except I have this upper chest rattle going on and I sounded like a scratched CD when I answered the phone at 6:50 A.M.
And then there's the argument. And instead of pursuing it in person, we're conducting it via email. The only positive note to this type of argument is that 12 hours passed from the initial email until my response late this afternoon. Gives one time for serious reflection. Should offer clarity. Instead, it just complicated things because I kept coming up with what if scenarios.
I know, I know, this rant probably means nothing to the average blog peruser. But it certainly feels good for me to write about it.
This friendship generally is a fine wine, a bouquet of sweetness tinged with a pinch of tartness. I'd rate it as an Asti: bubbly, brilliant, and flirty. Tonight, I'd classify it as a shot of tequila. A strong gut reaction to bitterness. And tomorrow, after we've both had a chance to consider each other's point of view, the elixir will once again take on a more mellow mood ~ a fine wine once again, with a fresh outlook, like a white zin.