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Jan. 8th, 2003 10:51 am
"Consider yourself..."
I've been spending waaaay too much time on my geekery lately. It wouldn't be such a problem if it didn't keep me up at night. Once I get going, it's very hard to turn off my brain, think quiet thoughts, and nod off.
Last night, I had a plan: I decided I'd spend a couple hours at Rokucha, come back exhausted and happy, and climb into bed without so much as casting a glance at my notes, the supplement on Indo-European roots in the back of the American Heritage dictionary, or Divry's. Needless to say, it didn't quite work out that way. When I got home, someone, somewhere was banging in nails or shifting furniture. I figured there was no point turning in until it stopped and instead of picking up a magazine or popcorn book to read, I foolishly went back to my research. I was up til midnight again.
In any case, there was barely room for me to squeeze into my usual seat at the restaurant, what with the splay-legged meathead on my left. I started distributing my little gifts: Korean sake for the owner, Meinl chocolate for Chef Jeff, Lebkuchen-Herzen for the waitress, etc. I was hungry enough for one of the sushi combos, but I hate California roll, so I asked the waitress if I could substitute. This touched off a series of consultations: waitress with My Chef, My Chef with owner's wife, etc. Finally, the owner's wife looked in my direction and said, "Oh, it's for you! That's alright then. We just don't want people making all kinds of substitutions. I thought it was someone who had called in."
Shortly after that, Mr Meathead turned to me and said, "You must come here a lot." I thought about it: Once a month? Five times total? Really, when all's said and done, not that long.
Last night, I had a plan: I decided I'd spend a couple hours at Rokucha, come back exhausted and happy, and climb into bed without so much as casting a glance at my notes, the supplement on Indo-European roots in the back of the American Heritage dictionary, or Divry's. Needless to say, it didn't quite work out that way. When I got home, someone, somewhere was banging in nails or shifting furniture. I figured there was no point turning in until it stopped and instead of picking up a magazine or popcorn book to read, I foolishly went back to my research. I was up til midnight again.
In any case, there was barely room for me to squeeze into my usual seat at the restaurant, what with the splay-legged meathead on my left. I started distributing my little gifts: Korean sake for the owner, Meinl chocolate for Chef Jeff, Lebkuchen-Herzen for the waitress, etc. I was hungry enough for one of the sushi combos, but I hate California roll, so I asked the waitress if I could substitute. This touched off a series of consultations: waitress with My Chef, My Chef with owner's wife, etc. Finally, the owner's wife looked in my direction and said, "Oh, it's for you! That's alright then. We just don't want people making all kinds of substitutions. I thought it was someone who had called in."
Shortly after that, Mr Meathead turned to me and said, "You must come here a lot." I thought about it: Once a month? Five times total? Really, when all's said and done, not that long.