"socializing" isn't always a four-letter word

This weekend proved to be a tad surreal. On one hand, the old familiar framework was in place: attempting to sleep late while Freyja pawed at my covers and Plath screamed in my ear; working on freelancing for hours on end; watching Netflix DVDs; and exchanging messages on Facebook. On the other hand, it also involved a bounty of two activities that I almost never do: drinking and socializing.

On Friday afternoon some coworkers and I went out for a long al fresco lunch and each of us enjoyed a glass of sangria while there. Pretty tame, admittedly, but it’s also like, Ohmigod! We’re drinking! On our lunch break! And then we have to go back to work! Ohmigod, we’re so scandalous! Sometimes being a stodgy old fogey is just grand.

On Friday night I was off to a coworker’s farewell party—which also turned into an early Oktoberbest celebration (at least in name). I had some bottles of English cider left over from the Princess Diana death anniversary party, so I took those along and some people were really excited about it. I grabbed one of the bottles for myself and enjoyed my time with the assemblage of coworkers and significant others who were there. The weather was great and it was a perfect evening to hang out under the party lights and trees. One of the benefits to parties thrown by my coworkers: all the food is vegetarian. In fact, the hostess of this particular party even labeled which dishes were vegan versus vegetarian. I love it.

Last night I helped another coworker belatedly celebrate her birthday. We had dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant we discovered in Georgetown two years ago, then spent a bit of time drooling over all of the unattainable goods in Anthropologie. Although talking myself out of buying a gigantic metal J for $98 wasn’t too difficult, talking myself out of buying a tabletop metal and wood J sculpture thingy for $28 was a lot more difficult. Oh how I coveted that damn thing! But sanity prevailed in the end, disappointingly. Afterwards we headed to Strike Bethesda, as she really wanted to go bowling (which would also mean kicking my ass at bowling, because let’s face it—I’m not exactly athletic). Once we got there and saw how ridiculously high the prices were ($35.95 for one hour’s use of a lane? Come on!), we decided to scrap our plans.

On a whim we headed over to Dave & Buster’s in Rockville. We had drinks, played the various games (well, Susan did, anyway—I was too cheap!), and stalked a hot gangly nerd. As always, Susan questioned my taste in men after I furtively pointed him out to her (not that he would’ve noticed—he was way too engrossed [one could even say to an obsessive degree] with the interactive Police 9-1-1 game). Based on my ragtag assemblage of geek crushes, I suspect the girl basically thinks I’m a nutcase...and perhaps she’s right. After we got tired of stalking him, we hit the road.

Also? I’m totally freaking the fuck out about this house situation. I just don’t know what to do. I can’t decide if I can make that monthly mortgage payment work. I can’t decide if buying this house will be the stupidest move of my life (because I may not be able to afford it, and house prices may continue to decline, so if I just wait for a few more weeks/months, I may be able to find a more affordable home) or if it will be the smartest move of my life (because no better properties at that price will appear, and passing on this house means passing on my one chance to have a decent home at a semi-affordable price). I analyzed my monthly expenses to within an inch of their life, cut costs from them as much as possible, and poured over my freelance earnings for each month during the past two years to try to figure out how much they could save my ass if I buy this house. I’ve become an old pro at fretting and wringing my hands while being completely paralyzed with indecision.

Long live the joys of adulthood.


song heard most recently before posting:
Symphonic Dances, Op. 45: Non allegro—Sergei Rachmaninov