Dance Class- Cheap Marriage Counselling

I was all set up to take a Contemporary dance class at the Kingston School of Dance as research for a book I'm writing for my publisher Orca Books. They have a new series of performing arts books called Orca Limelights and I'm writing one about a ballet dancer who injures her foot and can't do any pointe work for the summer. Her parents ship her off to a dance camp where she has to learn other dance styles. I have a very awful working title right now, so I just refer to it as the "Dance Camp" book.
So, I was all set up to take Contemporary, but the class was Tuesdays at 6pm, smack-dab in the middle of dinner hour. I envisioned myself rushing home from work to make dinner andt then leaving before I could eat it, anad then arriving home just in time for bedtime. Not fun. Anyway, being the somewhat distracted person that I am, I saw a Thursday night Ballroom class and signed my husband and I up on the spot. Not only do we like to dance, I thought it would be an inexpensive way for us to spend time together without actually having to plan a date. The instructor would tell us what to do, and we'd listen. 
I wasn't sure the first class if were more excited about dancing, or if we were just excited to be out on a Thursday night. A mid-week date-ooh! I was a little worried we'd get kicked out of the first class because while everyone else was stiffly foxtrotting around the room, Rob and I were adding in crazy dips and making silly faces. Also, since we're both teachers we find it hard to quietly take instruction. We both always have questions or comments. We're either your ideal keener students or your worst nightmare.
We made our way through the fox trot and then the meringue with ease and maybe even grace. Then came the salsa. Can I tell you how funny it is to watch a room full of very stiff white people (myself included) try and do salsa hips? I highly reccomend the experience, especially if you're not the stiffest person in the room. 
The class ended faster than we'd imagined and we came home happy and thirsty to find out our youngest son had barfed all over his bed and his doll Fuvie. The babysitter had calmy stripped his bed and changed his pajamas, but needless to say, both kids were still up. And there was a slew of phone messages.
Both Rob and I were tired Friday morning, but not too tired to be excited for a Tango class Saturday night. I'm thinking my publisher is defintely going to need a ballroom book.