So my swing club has a favorite dance hall, and they’re having an anniversary party. At first I thought I shouldn’t go — I have three papers due in the next week.
Then I remembered that one of my papers is on the folklore of neo-swing dance, so I told myself that it was “research” and decided to go. But!
Stepmother: Well, I see no reason why you can’t go… if you get all your work done.
Cinderella: Oh, I will. I promise.
Stepmother: And, if you can find something suitable to wear.
Cinderella: I’m sure I can. Oh, thank you, Stepmother.
Drizella: Mother, do you realize what you just said?
Stepmother: Of course. I said, “If.”
Obviously a crucial part of the scheme was buying a ticket to go to the party. But what if, for some insane reason, the website wouldn’t accept my card, despite the fact that there was plenty of money on the card?
But we all have our own little fairy godmothers, and so I managed to find a way to get to the ball. Despite the fact that I bare an odd resemblance to Drizella.