In a few weeks we'll be going to a couple of kick-ass music festivals. Two weekends in a row, with two separate groups of friends. So tonight we were looking over the expenses for the accommodations, since there's no way in any kind of hell that I'm sleeping in a tent surrounded by thousands of sixteen year olds drunk off their asses. It's not an age thing. Really, it's not. I felt the same way when I was sixteen.
Anyway. So we were looking over expenses, and Mah Girl marveled at how cheap the cottage we're renting for one of the festivals is.
“I mean”, she said, “it's that cheap per person and there's only three of us.” I looked over at her, and said “We're going with Stefan and Nils”.
She frowned and said: “I wonder who I wasn't counting?” Pause. Small smile. “It was probably you”.
Makes the heart all warm and cozy, don't it?
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