...I wouldn't have wasted those 10 years of school after high school, and about $85,000. Is anyone else intrigued as I am by the idea of me being a locomotive engineer?
I'm home now. It's been a long day, and I'm kind of tired. I just opened a bottle of my favorite root beer, which is the best thing after the activities of the day that led me to me so tired. Scandalous people--that would be driving for hours in a car with the windows down in 96°F heat! (It's now a perfect 72°F under clear skies, feels like 72°F. The chance of precip is a paltry 20%, and the humidity is at 57%.) The Boy and I went to St. Getavia, seeking TGIFriday's. If there's a TGIFriday's on Randall Road, it's got to be South of Batavia or North of Elgin, 'cause we traveled all zillion miles (and looked carefully at all zillion strip malls) in between and found nada. [Ah, crap. I just checked the locator service, and there is a TGIFriday's in Batavia. Fuck it all.] Then we went to downtown Geneva, 'cause the place where Robert and I ate last weekend was fabu...but they close at 3:00. (It was about 3:02.) We wandered south, then. No, north. No, East. (Yargh--we walked toward the Fox River.) We meandered down 31 (is it 31? It's Main St. 38? Whateverthefuckever.) and ended up at a bar sort of joint. The Owl! That's it, 'cause he ordered an Owl Burger and I had a BBQ beef sandwich, something for which I've been hankerin' for a couple of weeks. (Had thought to go to Tommy O's, but I'm afraid of new ownership.) Anyway, I asked him if the Owl Burger was genuine owl meat, and he said, "I don't think so. But I would eat owl." I looked at him like he's on crack, but he maintained that, should it be necessary, he would have no trouble consuming actual owl. [Shudder] He went on to tell about a recent conversation that he had with a coworker about the possibility that she would eat human flesh. It was the poor child's first time working with him, and he asked her if she'd try cannibalism! Is it any wonder that he's eternally fascinating for me? I suggested that he might want to wait for a week or two before breaking out the cannibalism question with new coworkers, but he said, "What the fuck are we supposed to talk about, 'what's your favorite color?'?" He was so indignant, it was all I could do not to laugh. Of course, we were eating at the time, so it's just a bit surprising that I didn't...have digestive problems at the thought. Eh. Not so bad.
So. We ate like pigs (or a cannibalistic owl and cow), wobbled back to the chariot, and came back by alternate route. I nearly slept, and it's only about a half-hour drive.
The rest of my day's been spent reading, listening to music, cleaning (gag), and going to visit my furry buddies--my former cats, now under new management. Here's a really, really horrible self-portrait of [parts of] the 3 of us, horrible because H doesn't usually look retarded, and P doesn't usually look like she's about to hurl a hairball at the camera. And why do I look horrible? Er, it's not my best side, I guess:
Clever, eh? I actually was wearing clothes that covered most of my body at the time--it was the angle at which the camera had to be held that caused me to look so, er, disheveled. I was there for about an hour, I'd guess. Their regular caretaker is on vacation with his girlfriend (God be praised!). We had a good time; I'm covered with fine fur and kitty love, and I miss them anew.And now, home in the bachelorette pad, which seems sterile and quiet (no "ROWR!" every 5 seconds)--but it also seems clean and mine. Although there are elements of that life that I miss, now, and probably always will, I am awfully happy with my life now. The life that I chose.
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