2004-07-18 - 12:25 a.m.
Content or Recap? You decide.
Right.
I promised content.
And then never got around to it.
And now it's later than it should be for me to still be awake - not that that ever stopped me from being up this late on a Sunday before work before - and so I can make no promises about how coherent this entry may seem when all is said and done.
Life is OK. Work is OK. And I'm relaxed in spite of the few things that are still getting to me now and then.
My mother is having sporadic fits of being convinced I'm an alcoholic - or at least on my way to being one. Then she is reminded that I don't go to the bar to drink so much as I go to the bar to be with my friends, who happen to be at the bar. I go to the bar because it is lively and full of people and things happening, and so much less depressing than sitting alone at home on weekend evenings.
Then she remembers being my age, living in this area, and going out to the bars regularly because it's the only thing there really is to do at those hours of the night.
And then she calms down. And that's good.
As soon as I finish this diary entry I am - no, not going to bed - writing an e-mail to Bartender Amanda (So dubbed because somehow I always think that if I just say/type/think "Amanda" I will somehow confuse her with Flowers, which would just be very silly and is in fact extremely unlikely to happen). Then I will go to bed.
There is, I think, a chance that Talcott's opinion is a bit to the "correctly stated" side of things. I wouldn't go so far myself as to phrase it that I've "got it" for her. But I can't deny a possibility that I'm a bit... smitten. Comes down not so much from my eagerness to read new e-mail when it arrives, nor from my enthusiasm in spending hang-time once each these last few weeks out to an hour way past my working bedtime... no, I think what really tipped the scales, and caused me to give a rueful grin at myself in admittance of my smittenness would be the smile she gave me when she dropped me off the last time we hung out. Or rather, my inability to resist (as if I'd want to?) an immidate need to smile myself at the sight of it.
And still the thing is... that's no matter.
I still don't feel any need to decide exactly what the nature of the hanging out has been. Because it doesn't really matter. I've had a good time each time I've had a chance to hang out with her. I look forward to any potential opportunity to do it again. If my concious and subconcious are on different pages about it... well, they're not wholly conflicting pages, so it's no big deal.
The point, I guess, is that I somehow seem to have finally taken to heart a piece of advice I was given (what seems like) quite some time ago. At this point, anyway, beyond what I think of as my writerly curiosity over a situation... the "what" and "why" doesn't really seem to matter so much. What does matter is that I'm having a good time, and seem to have made a new friend.
That's a good thing, and a good feeling, and that's where my focus is. Could just have to do with the way my outlook on life has - if anything - somehow gotten a bit more easygoing (at least for the time being. Who's to say, after all, that my outlook won't shift with little or no warning at any given time in the near-or-distant future?)
This week is going to be... interesting. And possibly a bit stressful. You see, Andy was informed he was going on a family vacation. They leave on Thursday. And that means we pretty much need to be back on Wednesday night. So it's a 40-in-3 again. Urg.
Add to that, there's an even chance this will be our last week in Holmes County (which means our last week staying in Dover, one county over).
Those of you following along well enough not to need me to say so, forgive my filling in the gaps for those who aren't.
Dover is where Bartender Amanda is. And so staying in Dover has thus far meant getting to hang out with her on one of my work nights each week. Once we're done in Holmes Co, we're off to Washington. Then Hocking. Not so much with the staying in Dover then, obviously.
So, I'm hoping I won't be making a nusiance of myself if I suggest/ask about possibly going down sometime on a weekend to hang out. Granted she probably works more on weekends, but who knows.
Bloody hell, maybe Talcott is righter than I'd expected.
*shakes head* My life's writers are still on crack.
I should add that not only have David and Laura adopted me as a favored bar-buddy, but Ruby, Mark, Carol (or is it Carolyn, I can never remember), etc. seem to have done so as well - we've been quite the fixture last weekend and this.
I actually had to promise Mark (and I did) that I'd show up last night at the Wharf. He was plastered and so unable to tell if I was being honest that I was fine to drive home on Friday night. So I told him I'd show up Saturday and that way he'd know I'd gotten home alright.
Last night we were seemingly joined by a chap named Ben, although I'm not sure if he was actually part of the group, or if he'd been pulled in from his adjacent seat at the bar - enough of the group works and/or is a regular at the Wharf that just about everyone who isn't new knows someone in it. I suppose that gives them (or should I say us?) something of a gravitational field.
Words words everywhere, and not a thought to speak. I think I'm running low on my efforts for "content" this entry.
Blame it on the hour. I've now got a chance for 5 hours of sleep. If I go to sleep now.
But I've got an e-mail to write meantime, hopefully getting myself set up to go and hang out again on one of my two nights in Dover this week.
If I am very lucky, once I am in bed I will get a good quality of sleep - that hasn't happened the last few Sunday nights - and so I won't be too badly off tomorrow trying to work.
At least I have the "easy" job of driving around, still.
Although with my luck we'll tear through the rest of the bridges I already have plotted out, and my day will end with me squinting in frustration over bridge maps, mileage lists, and the county map. *sigh* Such is the life of the foreman.
At least the pay's good.
Here's hoping no disasters happen this week - it's short enough without badthings.
Although, the last "real" work disaster was the car's flirtation with death - and that landed me in Amanda's bar in Dover, so who can say what odd silver lining would come out of another work "disaster."
Right, then. E-mail, then sleep.
Got to get that done now.
Yup.
*gone*
previous howl
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Murrrrrrffff? - 2005-01-04
A Late Review - 2004-09-12
Weekend Update - 2004-08-08
Intermission - 2004-08-07
Rambling or something. - 2004-07-31
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