This is similar to Saturday Night Fever but in the middle of the week and without the tight flared trousers.
And thanks to this highly unexpected Chill I have found the definition of The Perfect Evening.
The Perfect Evening means coming home late, getting changed into pyjama bottoms and a dirty grey t-shirt. Then it translates into sitting together on the saggy red couch, Hubby reading out the names of my favourite chilled songs, me typing them into my pet iPad, hearing the first three notes and swooning with pleasure as I save them onto my newest, coolest, chillest playlist.
The Perfect Evening is forgetting about dinner, so engrossed are we in this beautifully harmonised duet.
Then as hunger passes, The Perfect Evening means dancing, as one, to this deliciously hypnotic music.
A fly on the wall spied us, Hubby with his white work shirt open to the waist, me dressed in my Sunday morning best, bopping and moving and laughing and grooving.
Quietly it murmured to its wife:
‘Why go to Barbados for three weeks when all we really need is a Midweek Night Chill like this to keep our marriage buzzing’.
Too true, Mr Fly. But take her to Barbados anyway. The buzz you’ll find there will keep you flying high for a long, long time.