We had no plans this weekend. We’d been invited to Pamela’s birthday party, way up in Arlington, this evening, but Phillip suggested that, with all this overtime, it might be in my best interest to skip it. I agreed, and suggested that Phillip go without me. Phillip ultimately decided to skip it as well. We love Pamela, though, and have made plans for a get-together on an upcoming Saturday.
So, with no plans this weekend, I looked forward to sleeping in yesterday. I woke up at 7:30 or so, and couldn’t get back to sleep. So I got up. Then I realized that the next day (today) was Writers’ Group. I had lost track of days, and hadn’t realized that this is the second Sunday of the month. I tried to come up with something to write, and couldn’t. I wasn’t worried. I’d come up with something.
Around nine, I started getting sleepy, so I went back to bed. (Phillip was still in bed.) I slept until 11:30 or so. I got up and felt sick. (Too much sleep?) (Too irregular of a sleep pattern?) (Something else?) I was barely able to move all day.
In the middle of the afternoon, Phillip suggested we go to Wendy’s, in the Rainier Valley. “There’s nothing special about Wendy’s,” he explained, “But we haven’t been there in a long time.”
I agreed to the idea, as long as Phillip did all the driving.
There was a lady in line ahead of us, who looked like she could be someone’s sweet grandmother. She ordered a 99¢ hamburger with extra mayonnaise (but not too much!) and paid with change from a coin purse.
Phillip ordered next. Then I ordered. Then the guy behind us ordered from the value menu.
Phillip got his order and left to go take a seat. While the other guy and I were waiting for our orders, a manager-type person showed up and started verbally abusing one of the employees for “standing around” while there are customers waiting.
“I can guarantee you these customers are annoyed right now,” he yelled at the employee, “because I know I’m annoyed right now!”
I felt a strong urge to speak up and say, “I’m not annoyed by having to wait for my order, but I am annoyed by you criticizing an employee in front of me.” I wasn’t feeling up to a confrontation, however, so I said nothing.
As we ate our lunch, Phillip noticed a “property for sale” sign outside of the restaurant.
Then we heard, from across the dining room, that manager-type person verbally abusing that same employee – this time it was about ketchup on the door, and how about it proved she didn’t do her rounds last night.
“If this place wasn’t going out of business,” Phillip said to me, “I’d fill out a comment card.” (I really wished I’d spoken up when I was waiting for my order.)
When we got home, I emailed Barbara and told her I wasn’t feeling up to Writers’ Group. (I figured that, even if I was feeling better, I probably needed some recovery time.)
Phillip and I stayed up last night and watched a six-episode marathon of Red Dwarf on KBTC. I slept until 9 or so this morning.
I’m feeling better, but I’m glad I skipped Writers’ Group.
This afternoon, Phillip and I took a walk along Broadway. I stopped at an espresso stand and ordered a 16-ounce latte.
After my drink was served, the barista retrieved an iPad (or similar tablet) and began scrolling through a list, obviously having trouble finding something.
“First time selling a latte?” asked Phillip. (We’d been joking with the barista earlier, so it didn’t sound as sarcastic as it probably looks.)
“No. Taxes, man,” said the barista, “These fucking taxes.”
As we walked home, Phillip asked me, “Did taxes go up, or something?”
“Not that I know of,” I replied, “That was kind of weird.”
Phillip said, “You’d think they sell more lattes than anything else, and would know what the tax is.”
“Or at least have a cash register programmed to figure it out for you,” I added.