teacher friend had a meeting at an east side school in the afternoon so he suggested we grab a cocktail or two; i hadn’t thought of a place to meet when he asked, so he suggested woody anne’s. i hesitated internally because of how awful i know woody is to women, and i shouldn’t patronize establishments in support of that behavior… but i also knew that meant no one i know would be there and i could avoid having to explain to anyone (who doesn’t already know) why i was hanging out with a man that isn’t matt. even tho, really, it’s no one’s business.
he told me about his week, and i listened because i listen better than i talk, and it really amazes me how little resources we give our teachers to work with. they’re here to shape the future generations of this country, and we barely give them books or supplies or support.
the bar was one stool away from being full when we got there. i realized later that it was happy hour—like, one where people are only there because the drinks are cheap. grandma judy was there, drinking champagne out of a flute. i don’t think she remembered me from a million years ago at wilson’s where she asked me to squeeze her butt because she had been exercising. this is a nearly 90-year-old bartending woman with leopard patterned clothes and hat.
the place cleared out and it was much quieter, but that meant people were more listeney.
i didn’t feel like making food when i got home, even though i’ve been really good at not ordering out. so, i ordered burrito drive but didn’t have the right amount of small bills for a tip, and the driver didn’t have the right amount of change, so he got more of a tip than i would have liked.
i watched some more of the office and ate dinner, knitted a little more on my mitered square blanket, and laid down when tired hit.
it’s weird… i used to look forward to the weekends, but now i’m kind of dreading them. :/