Not the evening I expected

[muckefuck]

I know it annoys some of you when I post in languages you can't understand, but there is this compensation: Those are mostly fluffy little bits. When I really screw up, I almost always write it up in English.

Last night, I couldn't figure out how I could've possibly been the first to the restaurant. When has it ever happened that I, coming all the way from Evanston, have beat out those walking over from mere blocks away? Well, maybe once or twice, but still, at quarter past the hour, you've got to wonder. It was only after I'd left some desperate-sounding messages for Nuphy and e. that I reconsidered how the maîtresse d' hadn't actually looked in the book when I announced the name of my party. Was it possible that her reaction wasn't one of recognition but of willing accommodation?

I don't know how I did it, but I managed to convince myself that January 9th was a Tuesday and I clung to this misconception in the face of all evidence to the contrary--such as the fact that I knew full well Sunday was the Epiphany. I still managed to add two to six and get nine. Worse, on desk duty yesterday, a woman even said, "Is today the 8th?" and I unhesitatingly replied "No, the 9th." This not ten minutes after I'd made a reservation on the computer for a study room for Wed Jan 9th! The clues were all around, yet I managed to overlook ever one!

Some people might've laughed at themselves and gone ahead and ordered anyway. Not me; the incident transformed Shikago forever into a Place of My Shame, and my only desire was to flee it. Back on the street, I tried to figure out how to salvage the evening. First I called spookyfruit, despite the fact that he's regularly been leaving the office earlier ever since he hung out his own shingle. Nope, already home. Then I called his_regard. This night of all nights, he'd left early and eaten already. Who did that leave? I considered calling grunter, but I figured if he was still in the office, it was because he had pressing work to do and couldn't get away to grab a bite with me.

And I was hungry before I even reached downtown, so I didn't want to wait and hour or so for someone to free up. Not to mention that, if I had the opera the next night, I wanted to be in bed early. Then I remembered my friend MS, who uncharitably summarised my thought process as, "Who else do I know who's lame enough to still be at work this late and has no life?" Even though he wasn't finished preparing his class, I managed to drag him away for Greek diner food at the Exchequer. [Note to self: Never order their fish 'n' chips again ever. I don't care if Nuphy still likes to get it, it's truly awful.]

Afterwards, we hopped on the el since he was getting off at Wellington and I figured the least I could do after leaping uninvited into his evening (sad or otherwise) was accompany him that far. And who should we run into in the front car other than grunter! Turned out, he no longer has a chain around his ankle and the new place and could've gotten away; good to know. I got so absorbed in catching up with him, that I managed to miss my transfer point completely, but being as he is a prince among men, he gave me a ride in the fruit of his latest bonus. Not only that, I am one of the few to get a guided tour of "The Warehouse" (as they affectionately call their apartment stuffed with eBay loot).

So now's y'all's chance to make me feel better about myself. Tell me about a time you managed to show up on the wrong evening to something important. (You can post anonymously if it's just too damn embarrassing.)

Comments

[stephe.livejournal.com]

First year of grad. school. The department chair -- a man who I wanted as my dissertation director -- hosted an annual Christmas party for the department. And of course I showed up at his house a day early. Eeep.