I have a massive thumping head. Too much red wine, a late night, and an early train ride have messed with my focus.
I was in Edinburgh last night having the most lovely home cooked meal at Intern2 and Hubby’s flat (why can everyone cook but me?), and…oh, right, before I move on with the gloriousness of the evening, I have to admit something. I kind of screwed up with HP. I completely forgot he was coming back to Dundee last night after being away. For a week. I should have been home, waiting for my love in lingerie or something, but I kind of just forgot.
In the middle of a wine pour my phone beeped. It was HP wanting to know where I was. Oops. Completely forgot to text him and tell him.
By this point I knew I was going to miss the last train back to Dundee (which is unreasonably early, and I think the hotels are in cahoots with the trains, because if you want to do anything decent in Edinburgh or Glasgow you have to stay the night as the last train is way too early.)
Anyway, I texted HP back to tell him that I was at dinner with Intern2 in Edinburgh.
Yeah, I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about my re-meeting last Friday with Intern2 and my little adventure. Shit, my little adventure. I’m still not feeling really great about my nekkedness and I’m not sure how HP will feel about that. So, I directed Intern2 and Hubby not to say anything if/when they see HP. Intern2 reminded me that the photos will end up in a gallery, that’s what happens with those things. But, I’ll deal with that when the time comes.
So, I just told HP that I’d run into Intern2 while in Edinburgh, he invited me to dinner, it’s all just happened spur of the moment…oh my god why am I lying to HP, I’ve done nothing wrong.
Anyway, Intern2 and Hubby are my new favourite people. I am such a tick for ever being jealous of or distrusting of Intern2. Granted, I got over that by the end of my stint at MNM, but the way I acted towards him in the beginning was abysmal. Luckily, he doesn’t remember me being a snob, which of course didn’t keep me from bringing it up over the fourth glass of wine. And, Hubby said he just couldn’t believe I’d ever be a bitch. Well believe it. I get resting bitch face on a regular basis.
Anyway, standing in Waverley station in clothes from the night before and feeling like death (at least I was showered), guess who else I found on the platform?
My sister Katie. She was doing the train of shame.
She’s been in Edinburgh with BanksyWannaBe every night since they met, taking the train to Dundee in the morning for her internship. I asked her if that was getting a bit expensive and that maybe she should tone it back a bit, and she said that BanksyWannaBe was paying for her train tickets. I said, ‘So he’s paying for sex with train fare. Classy.’
Then, just to be the caring big sister, I added, ‘And he’s a bit old for you. And, kind of weird. And, I’m not comfortable with the way he cajoled us into his little nude art project.’
She flipped out. ‘Oh my god. He is younger than the freaks you used to date, and he didn’t “cajole” us into anything. We did it willingly, or at least I did. And we were covered in paint. It was no different than wearing a wet suit.’
She had a point on all of those things, but I kept my steely silence. You never let your little sister know when she’s right.
She then added, ‘And I’m not being paid for sex in train fares.’
I just said, ‘Whatever.’
We rode to Dundee in separate carriages and when we arrived in Dundee she walked to her internship and I took a bus to my flat.
HP was gone by the time I got home, and I was really late for work. So, I threw on some clean clothes and jumped into a taxi.
I’m now in the office staring at Patch. I need to tell you what interesting little tid-bits I found out about him while I was in Edinburgh yesterday, but I’m still mad about Katie, and I’m even matter at Patch. So, instead of blogging, I’m going to sit here and give Patch an evil stare until his head explodes.