I just went to remove the chicken from the refrigerator (the better to roast it, my dear) and discovered the following sticky note attached to the bird: "Don't eat me! We are going out."
"Really, Gold n' Plump? You and I are hitting the town?" I asked with interest.
The chicken remained enigmatically silent.
"Ste-eeeeee-ve!" I bellowed towards the upper recesses of the house "I am receiving messages from the food!"
"Listen to the chicken," he yelled back. "Heed the wisdom of the chicken!"
"You and I and the chicken are going out tonight?" I asked.
"Well, you and I."
"You got a babysitter?"
"I got a babysitter."
"You made reservations?"
"I made reservations."
"Garsh," I said.
"I know!" he replied.
So in one short hour I will be ditching my child with that nice woman from the nanny service and going to a place that boasts page after page after page of delicious wine. And I shall choose not wisely but well and, considering it is my birthday in T- 7 hours, I must say I completely deserve it.
I like birthdays and I like surprises but I especially like MY birthday surprises.