wrong night

After a long week of being home exclusively with baby z (it is spring break, and there is nowhere to go) I was finally going to be taken out to dinner. Pete arranged a friend to come and sit for the evening. She was going to stay the night and then spend Saturday with me baking bread and tending to z while pete rolled around in the woods somewhere.
I did not eat lunch in anticipation of a someone-else-cooked-for-me meal. It's not that we don't eat out, we probably go out more often than any other new parents have ever dared to. But I was hoping for a divine dinner at a tiny Italian restaurant and some happy conversation with my man.
I finished some quick chores around the house. The laundry was put away, the dishes were washed, the bottles prepared. I clicked on the lamp in the guest room.
To pass the time and ignore our growling stomachs Pete and I played catch in the front yard while z napped. We checked the clock as the time ticked by. We checked our phones for missed calls.
I talked Pete into showering and putting on clean pants while we continued to wait. I changed my clothes, fluffed my hair and even applied mascara.
We watched tv and complained about our hunger. Pete called our friend several times without result. As 9pm approached she finally called and wondered why we expected her on Friday when she had arranged with Pete to come on Saturday evening.
About an hour later the Pizza Hut delivery guy knocked on our door. We ate too much and fell asleep on the couch watching 40 year old virgin.