mom’s colleagues versus my evening

nothing makes an entrance less glamorous than having six adults look up from folders while you cross the living room. #

Mom’s colleagues were here when I was leaving tonight. Of course. The entire downstairs smelled like coffee and Angel, there were folders everywhere and I had to cross the living room fully dressed to go out while everybody briefly stopped talking. I hate this. One of them said `”Very elegant.”` Mom said `”Wait until you see the shoes.”` Why is my own mother providing commentary? I escaped before somebody could ask where we were going.

Yuri was downstairs and immediately asked why I looked annoyed. I said `”conference.”` He understood. This has happened enough times that Mom’s work meetings are now a known obstacle in our departure procedure.

Remember me, Eclipse.