Sometime after noon I showered, got dressed and headed to Destin. As I approached Walden, I wondered just why it was that I was leaving the house in the first place. It just seemed like time to go, so I went.
I first went to Electronics Megamarket to buy a printer cartridge for the printer at my aunt and uncle’s house. I had the model number. I found the ink. I had it in my hand. Then I wondered, “Are there already a dozen ink cartridges at the house that I didn’t bother to look for?”
I gave my aunt a call and said that I was about to buy a printer cartridges unless she had a stash that I had overlooked.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I forgot to get more!”
“Uh, sorry?” I said to myself. “Sorry that the house that you’re providing to me for free doesn’t include a complete and fully-stocked business center? Oh yeah, you’d better be sorry.”
Before I could muster a more suitable response, however, she continued. “I will pay you back. I am so sorry.”
I like to think that I’m a fairly generous person. Perhaps, some of my generosity might be hereditary.
After I had convinced my aunt that buying a little ink was, in fact, something that I was willing to do in appreciation for having a place to park Walden that includes not only a toilet, shower and electricity, but also a kitchen, washer, dryer, oh, and a bedroom, I bought a couple ink cartridges at Office Megamarket. Back at Electronics Megamarket I procured a sleeve for my new Acer Aspire S3 Ultrabook and a 8GB memory card for my new Canon Powershot 300HS. My last little Canon camera got the lens broken when I went to Piegan’s Pass in Glacier National Park. I really like my Canon 40D, but I decided that I also want to have something smaller to carry around Ecuador.
With my office and electronic needs fulfilled, I headed out to get some lunch. I found a fairly touristy place where I had some fried foods and wrote for awhile before taking a walk on the beach.
With enough time to make it to happy hour back in Seaside, I hit the place where I now feel like a regular. There I ran into a group of people I had seen at the previous Saturday’s party. I joined their table and when the chef provided them with a couple plates of appetizers on the house I succumbed to having a taste or two. With the food gone, the crowd was looking for a new venue and decided go to one couple’s house. It wasn’t clear to me that I’d been included in the plans, but one couple insisted that I should join the group. After trying to give me directions, they decided that I should just follow them. I had some trepidation about whether I was actually invited, but I was not stopped at the door, which seemed like a good sign. I was further relieved when the hostess called me by name when she instructed her husband to get me a wine glass.
These folks had just built a pretty incredible house, with a huge room that includes a beautiful bar on one end and an awesome kitchen on the other, perfect for entertaining. The marble counter tops were really beautiful. I missed the tour of the rest of the house because was involved in a conversation that I didn’t want to leave. Alas, by the time the conversation had come to a pause, the tour was over.
When that party broke up I headed down to a little bar in Grayton where I have now hung out enough to know a few folks and the bartender. I got into a conversation with a couple of women, one of whom said something about my being attractive. They were taking pictures of themselves with a camera held at arm’s length. I got in a few of those too, making a point of getting close to the one who seemed interested in me. Having not met any woman who seemed attracted to a guy who lives in a van, seeing just how interested Interested was seemed like an opportunity not to be squandered. Perhaps recasting living in a van as being “temporarily retired” was working.
The three of us went outside where I gave both Interested and Friend a tour of Walden. When Friend went inside to pay the tab, I made my move on Interested.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said matter-of-factly.
As I was formulating a response that would somehow be apologetic for my unwanted attention and thankful for her forthright communication, she added, “That’s my girlfriend.”
Oh. I’d totally missed that. I lived in San Francisco for a couple years, and learned there never to make assumptions about anyone’s sexual orientation. Or so I thought. Apparently I have no GAYDAR whatsoever.
When Friend returned I told her “Your girlfriend refused to kiss me,” which she seemed to find mildly amusing, but she was more interested in talking about the bartender. Bartender had just told Friend that she was considering breast augmentation surgery, which Friend did not think was a good idea. Part of Friend’s concern was that the price of implants had jumped from $1500 per, to $2000. I started wondering about what kind of non-elective surgery you could get for $4000 and how other parts of our medical system would probably benefit competition. Friend, however, brought the conversation back to breasts. What ensued was a conversation about our mutual appreciation of breasts and how we all thought that the bartender would be better off with what she had already. It was all quite titillating. Soon, though, the bar was closed, and we all headed for our respective homes.