I present: the four ways in which my day resembled the lazy Sunday of someone who was alive during the last World War, rather than that of your average 32-year-old.
1) Early Bird Eating. We are talking about brunch so early that it really should be called “breakfast.”
There is this great brunch spot in our neighborhood that we never go to because the wait it always, like, an hour. (This drives me batty. Why can you not make reservations for brunch? Another post….)
Anyway, the food is tasty and inexpensive but we never go because I am totally not down with standing on the sidewalk for an hour for the privilege of eating perfectly-cooked over-easy eggs. But this morning, my husband and I were both up at 7 AM. ON A SUNDAY? Why, I do not know.
Our little brunch spot opened at 8 AM and we were there when they unlocked the doors. We enjoyed our runny eggs and extra-crispy bacon over conversation about how weird it was to be up so early and how old it made us feel. But upon leaving an hour later, we exchanged smug looks as we passed the swelling crowd in the lobby, people doomed to wait for a table because they obviously didn’t have their shit together. Suckers.
That’s irony as pure as the maple syrup that I poured on my pancakes. I am the last person to lay claim to early-bird smugness. Typically, I’m happy to sleep well in to double digits. (See, for example, this post which was less than a year ago!)
I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I seem to have lost my ability to sleep in. It’s weird, but also kind of nice.
2) Vehicular recreation? After brunch, we were waiting for a light to change and my husband asked if I knew what was down “that road” to our right.
I didn’t. And because (being done with the day’s first meal at such an unusually early hour) we had some time to kill, we decided to explore.
As it turned out, there was nothing down that road but typical semi-urban neighborhoods. Still, we tooled around for a while, eyeing houses for sale and speculating on their value (for no reason other than curiosity). We were stopped at a stop sign when my husband’s eyes widened in alarm.
“This. We’re doing it again,” he whispered.
I turned and gave him a quizzical look.
“THIS. This is what old people do,” he said. “You know: ‘going for a drive.’ Making useless comments about the things they see. That’s what old people do and we’re doing it right now.”
Of course, he was totally right.
I plugged our address into the GPS and we headed straight home.
3) Inappropriate use of ice. Fast forward to 4PM. It’s time to open some wine! How about a glass of white? What…there’s none in the fridge? Well, um…
HEYYYY! ICE IN THE CHARDONNAYYYYY!
I know. NO. But it was a cheap bottle of Cupcake and I really wanted a glass so…I did what your great-grandmother did with her white zin and plopped in a couple of ice cubes. It wasn’t half bad, actually.
And it was an appropriate prelude to…
4) Early Bird Eating Part II: our 5:30 dinner reservations. This wasn’t my first choice, but that’s was what was available. We’ve been dying to eat at The Optimist since it opened a couple of months ago and it’s not easy to get a table.
(And justifiably. It was great. If you’re an Atlantan, it’s definitely worth a visit.)
Then the check came…
…and the evening took a childish turn:
Maybe it was the watered-down Chardonnay (or the bottle of Viognier we had with dinner), but this was really funny. To me, anyway. I’m not sure what Megan N thought about it but we left her a decent tip and also totally left her that receipt with the Optimus Prime on it even though it was the customer copy, so….
It’s now 9:30 PM and I am more than ready for bed. And I expect to sleep soundly when I get there. Maybe there is something to this whole getting-old thing.