I climb carefully, so as not to spill my big mug of steaming hot tea, into Barb’s big cushy bed. I like her ex-husband, but at times like these it’s really more convenient that he’s no longer here.
Barb and I bear remnants of last night’s mascara. Our hair is tousled and looks a bit like street walker hair (why is street walker hair wasted on the morning after?). We are wearing big cushy socks, sweat pants (they're James Perse!) and cozy sweaters. Everything one needs for a lie-in-bed, re-hash of the party the night before. Heaven!
Leaving my house 10 minutes earlier, Beloved had called from deep within our duvet requesting that I, sometime in the next few hours, after we have, "fully dissected, dismembered, parsed and extracted every word and action until there is nothing left of Barb’s dinner party but a dry pile of ash and bones," bring him back a cup of coffee. Beloved definitely does not get enough credit for his acerbic sense of humor.
It was an especially lively evening as the guests ranged from good friends to those we didn’t know quite as well, and I am certain the evening started out temperate and dignified.
There was Barb’s cousin who arrived with his usual monogrammed Styrofoam roadie and a bottle of Haut-Brion. He has a morbid fear of finding himself stranded somewhere with nothing decent to drink. Then there was the millionaire couple who would prefer to fraternize only with billionaires (can’t blame them really), and a cute couple whose children go to school with our children. Of course, there was Angelica, Micki and their husbands, a billionaire couple (luckily for the millionaires), and Sabrina. It is always hit or miss with Sabrina because she likes it to be a surprise what her plans will be for the evening. She may just come for drinks and leave. But it is possible she will come for drinks, and if the environment pleases her, sit for dinner. One never quite knows. That’s what makes her so terribly interesting.
Micki is not at our lie-in as her children are grown, and she and her husband weirdly like to spend Saturday morning in bed. With each other. Barb and I, not bound by these constraints of society, are happily ensconced and decide to start at the beginning so as not to miss a minute of the evening.
