Life is about being true to yourself. Every so often we all need to stop, take a deep breath and take a long and hard look at ourselves and be honest with the results. Not what you plan to do, what you hope to do or anything like that, but where you are right now, right this second. None of those self perpetuating lies or little embellishments we like to give ourselves. Because of nothing bad is ever said, nobody ever tries to be better.
I don't normally get long weekends. Even when I'm not working it seems like I'm working, in that although my RP is the draw, I'm the one in the background making all the little things happen. But not this weekend. This weekend I veged out, I did my readings, I typed up my notes, I apparently lost my mind at one point and went "gasp" shopping and generally tried to relax for a hot second.
After getting fleeced by the auto repair franchise Just Brakes on Friday - I would go into it but it's not worth getting that worked up again - I should have stopped at the grocery store and got me a box or two of cereal and pretended I was back at my momma's house reading comic books at the kitchen counter. But instead I took a shot, because it was the start of the three day weekend, and slid by one of my many running partner's promotions.
It's a new little drop in over by the dome at a spot called 595 North. It has the trappings of a nice spot, with lounging overtones. From 6pm to 9pm or somewhere thereabouts, it's free entry and free drinks. That is not a misprint. But if you're over thirty, or read this blog, you know that free drinks means well liquor only. And for the young and slow, well liquor is the liquor they pour if you don't have a particular brand in mind. It costs about $4 a fifth. It is rotgut. There was a singularly funny moment when standing at the bar I ordered an actual drink and the bartender told me the price. I gave him that blank stare that said the price wasn't about to change my mind, and he hurriedly filled my order. We had not issues the rest of the evening, he knew what I was drinking.
The promotion itself reminded my of babysitting someone else's children. My RP was the scene, and after a while we finally just had to stop someone and ask how old she was. The reply that she was barely past the legal drinking age sent a chill down my spine. It's one thing to think you're getting up there, it's another to actually be the "old man in the club". I have a personal prohibition of gettng drunk in front of other people's children, and that what the vast majority of these people were to me: children. I bid my promoter a quick adieu as soon as it was socially appropriate.
Saturday was slow, although Spanky did invite me over for breakfast, which consisted of eggs, bacon and Cinnamon toast. Her Martha Stewart has been slacking as late. And although she lobbied hard, I didn't attend the day party with the free bbq, or go to the joint at the Royal later on that night, or the house party on the other side of town. I stayed home and read casework. This is odd, because I sent out my usual holiday listing with what must be 10 or 12 little spots to hit, and myself went to none of them. But I see the photos on line...and boy can i pick'em.
Sunday was another day of reading casework. It wasn't that much to read considering how much time I put into it, but the cases get pretty dense and apparently my indoctrination is still a little ways off because i really don't understand why legal opinions are not in plain English. Or at least even clear English. The fact that most of the older law has to be interpreted is half the problem I think. But I'm still technically a first year, so what do I know?
Sunday night around 6pm however, my RP hit me with me with the last minute party invite. It was late and I had actually done the reading, it was around the corner and if it was busted I could slide back to the house in less than twenty minutes. But when I got there they had someone monitoring parking, security, a tent set up in the backyard and two bars served by four pretty cute bartenders. And the crowd was chock full of talent. Chock full. Talent my age.
And yet at 9:45pm, six feet from the dance floor where I worked out a sweat and "boogie'd down" with four or five women despite the horrible DJ, I whipped out my phone and found myself sending a text to Sporty on the spur of the moment. Yeah, despite all the talent in the room, I was thinking of her. I sent a quick quip and figured she'd get it in the morning.
She hit me back almost immediately, which I found odd for a holiday weekend. She complained she was lonely. I imagined her at home on the couch watching TV trying not be bored to tears. I wanted to cry. I assured her that while she might be lonely, she's never alone.
(I could write for a soap opera)
In any case that precipitated my Monday outing, picking up the little tidbits that will comprise her birthday present. It's not much, a few odds and ends I know she'll like, a bit here or there to surprise her. I don't know why, but the idea of her sad kills me. I do love her.
So here we are. Life, despite our best hopes and dreams, goes on with or without us.
Barkeep. The good brown liquor. No, not cognac, that smooth sipping whiskey.
No comments:
Post a Comment