Respite

It's been a pretty good weekend. In my advanced age, I tend to stay home on weekends and do old man stuff (crossword puzzles, scrapbooking), but this weekend I actually did things, all within the scope of the law, I think. For once.

I had dinner and drinks -- or, perhaps more accurately, drinks and dinner -- with the illustrious and praiseworthy Luke Roberts (who hooked a brother up!) in Gangnam after work on Friday. Samgyeopsal, IPAs, and good conversation, 10-20% of which was about bowel movements.

It was the shit.

Yesterday, Leon's father and his girlfriend visited for dinner at our new apartment. Leon cooked samgyeopsal*, and Leon's dad's girlfriend, a superlative cook, provided the meal's accoutrements. I was worried about Flashy being overly annoying during the meal (playing Nintendogs and smoking clove cigarettes), but he acquitted himself well. As a reward, Leon's father shared a chocolate-free frozen dessert cone with him. I disapprove of giving dogs human food, but I was like, "Okay, fine, we're taking the kids to Disney World."

After Leon's dad and his girlfriend left, Leon and I ate copious amounts of Play-Doh**. LOL, jk. No, what we did was walk two minutes from our apartment to a nifty music bar that has a great sound system, a ton of vinyl records, and an awesome interior. Requests were encouraged (although Leon's request of Michael Bolton's "Michael Bolton Song That I don't Know the Name Of" was quite gauche. No one's prefect).

Today, after watching the latest episode of Hannibal, I'm sitting at my computer with a Dachshund on my lap and a fortified beverage close at hand. As god intended.

Tomorrow: back to an unimaginative person's version of Hell, where nothing really sinister happens but neither does anything pleasureful occur.

Work.

At least they pay you for it.

All things considered, it has been a pretty good weekend.

(Except for the Children of the Corn adolescents who live next door, kick the recycling helter skelter, and comically try to intimidate me with their bicycles. They're going places. Juvenile hall, probably.)

Respite.

[Thank you for reading my essay.]

* If it was never new, and it never gets old, then it's a folk song.

** Just checking if you're still with me.