May 06, 2003 - 10:33 p.m.
The humidity is getting to me. Anyone know that song by Siouxsie & the Banshees called "92 Degrees"? That's what this place reminds me of. We're trying not to use the AC to save money, but when I came home, our thermostat said 86. Instead of immediately turning to AC, I opened a bunch of windows, and the temp has dropped to around 83 now. Unfortunately, I think the mosquitoes are getting in as well. Whatever. We'll have to run AC every day come July, so we might as well be thrifty now.
I never finished talking about the weekend. On Friday, we spent some time with one of Inga's friends from work. We bar-hopped until we ran into our symphony friends performing at an Irish pub. Then we basically forced everyone we came to the bar with to ditch us because we weren't going anywhere once we had symphony friends to hang out with. I think we won, on quality of conversation, by forcing the exodus.
Friday night was an evening of hanging out with the guys from the symphony crowd, so Saturday we evened things out by spending more time with some of the girls. I didn't feel that interesting, though. Sometimes my conversation glitters, and other times it seems leaden. I was definitely struggling with the latter. Perhaps it's because I stayed up until 5:30 am Saturday morning talking to friends in California. I had fun Saturday night, but I felt dumb. I still feel like we're in a phase where we have to impress people. They have their social group, and there's no reason that they should let us in unless they enjoy our company. I think Inga and I try to hard to make sure people like us sometimes, and that was definitely one of those nights.
Sunday night, though, we redeemed ourselves. It was the weekend for Shakespeare in the Park, so we packed a Mediterranean picnic and set up camp in front of the stage. Some of the symphony crowd found us, and I think we actually had clever things to say as we sat and enjoyed Much Ado About Nothing. After sitting around as the acting company packed up, we ended up crashing Inga's restaurant manager's gathering. The manager is a nice lady, but she definitely has an alcohol problem. She had called us earlier in the afternoon inviting us over. When we went over, she was mighty drunk. She insisted on fixing us dinner, even though we had already eaten. While heating stuff up, she was talking to herself. It was one of the more uncomfortable positions I've ever been in. We all wanted to leave, but she was cooking for us, so we couldn't. Once the food arrived, we couldn't not eat, so we stuffed ourselves. Soon after, we were able to excuse ourselves. I just hope that she doesn't remember the evening that well.
So that was our weekend. Work hasn't been that interesting, and I'm basically just anticipating next weekend. O woe is the life of the working stiff.
�
�
