Last night originally looked good on paper but that's usually a precurser to things becoming the exact opposite.
Lisa and I were supposed to go to a movie with our neighbors Mike and Sarah but four adults couldn't agree on a movie. For the record, I didn't say no to any of the suggestions. I orginally thought Children of Men was a bad choice because it was sci-fi, but agreed to it anyhow if that's what everyone wanted to see. As it turned out, though, they didn't. Mike refused to see The Queen (even though its gotten nothing but superior reviews), Lisa refused to see Freedom Writers, neither Mike nor Sarah wanted to see Letters From Iwa Jima and nobody except me would see the 9:30 showing of Blood Diamond (we were too late for the earlier show). For some reason, however, when it was apparent we wouldn't be seeing a movie, Lisa told Sarah it was because I, repeat I, was being difficult about it. So instead, we went to dinner at a very trendy Japanese restaurant near our house.
I wasn't really crazy about this idea from the start because A) I had a splitting headache all day and didn't really feel like talking for two hours, and B) my headache would be worsened by the fact that there's nothing but smokin' hot single women that go to that restaurant while my pregnant wife, in the meantime, is becoming ginormous. (She actually looks cute but our garbage disposal is on a better diet than she is right now, and she's only at 21 weeks and not supposed to gain "real" weight till the last trimester. Yikes!)
Anyway, it was an unmitigated disaster. I was actually fine for the first half hour until the point where the conversation turned to having a baby. Then for the next hour and half I heard a thousand stories of neverending inconvenience, no travel, no sleep, expensive baby clothes, non-stop medical costs, and complete loss of freedom....and this is from people who LOVE children. With every minute that went by my head pounded louder and harder. This was exactly why I just wanted to go to a movie. I just wasn't in the mood to pile all this on top of the nuclear bomb in my head which my wife refuses to believe is due to stress.
The good news was that it didn't turn into a huge fight. Plus, I was so stuffed with rice and edamame at the end of the meal that luckily I was too full to even put the end of a shotgun in my mouth.