I might have fallen asleep at 9:15 on Thursday night.
I might wish I could do that every night. Even on the weekends.
We might have done that on Friday night.
We might be in our 20s, but 70s at heart.
I might have been scared to get my hair done at the Hair Cuttery.
I might be a salon snob, but realize this is currently all we can afford and assure myself it can't be that bad.
I might have been freaking out on the inside when my name was called and it was an old woman named Hilda...who hardly speaks English. Was she going to understand my novel about what my hair used to be, why I hate it now, what I want it to look like and that I was giving her total control to work her magic??
I wasn't sure if she understood my condensed version, but Hilda might have decided to highlight my hair even though her shift was up in 30 minutes.
She might not have informed me of this.
We might have sat by the sink approximately 20 minutes because she loves to be at work and wanted to stay... but it was no longer her shift and Hilda no longer had a station.
My haircut might have been rushed as she took someone else's station while they were on break.
I'm glad Hilda loves her job so much, but I might save my money to go to an expensive salon next time.
I might have only gotten him a card. We celebrated his birthday last weekend...how could I give two weekends in a row??
I might believe that Valentine's is a holiday mainly for females. But of course I was very appreciative and loving to my hubby all day.
I might have felt a little guilty and decided I would make up for it by making him breakfast.
I might have thought about going grocery shopping if I knew I would've felt this way.
There might have only been one egg in the fridge.
I might have burnt his "birds nest" a
That might have been the last and only egg. There might have been no do-over.
His special breakfast might have been hostess powdered donuts instead.
We might have had a great Valentine's day and made up for that breakfast by ordering discounted $12 heart attacks at Smokey Bones. At least we will suffer together.
I might have asked where the Daytona 500 takes place...I live in FL.
Mr. B might have made fun of me. a lot.
In fairness, Mr. B might have just told me (in total seriousness) that getting gashed in the neck by a skate is the only reason he wouldn't do speed skating in the Olympics.
Mr. B might not ice skate. ever.
I might have laughed. a lot.