Woke up early, hit the gym. The 9:30 salsa/funk class rocks. Then it was home to do laundry and unfairly accuse a friend of being an asshole.
Leave it to me to forget that, since I go to the gym almost every day, I needn't get all my exercise jumping to conclusions. I apologized. After three hail Marys and an act of contrition, I've been forgiven; the slate is clean.
Once the laundry was in, it was time to settle in to a couple of cups of coffee (out of the green mug) and the ultimate decadent treat - chocolate chip scones, courtesy of the Pacific Northwestern branch of my family. It is entirely possible to be hugged all the way from the west coast. I know. I felt it.
So tonight, I treated myself to a quiet dinner with someone I love: Me. I went to my favorite restaurant, Fuego, for a couple margaritas. I would happily recommend a Pasin on the rocks (passion fruit margarita, because everyone needs a little passion in their life, even if they have to pay for it!) and the Camarones a la Diabla (which I think is Spanish for "Shrimp as Big as Your Head.) It was so delicious, and there is something delightful about sitting at a table for one and taking all the time I want because it's late and they don't need the table back any time soon, so I can sit and watch the world go by outside the window, as smiling people pass by, enjoying the clear, beautiful night.
The company wasn't bad, either. Too bad I was too full for flan.
But there's always next time.