Why do I call it a weekend when it is only 33 hours long?
It was a nice weekend, even if it wasn't what most people call a weekend. I was off earlyish on Friday afternoon and went in at 9 on Sunday morning. But then again, any day I get to sleep in is a big deal! Saturday was such a day. I was able to have a slow start to a day that ended up being rather full.
That afternoon I got to be the femme consultant for a butch friend's house furnishing. She's recently moved into her own place. Many of our mutual friends were somewhat taken aback by the fact they weren't asked to help her move (it's what we do for each other), but since all she owns pretty much fits into three duffel bags (and apparently that's a 50% increase) she did it all herself. She has this tiny apartment and needed basic things for it. So she came and picked me up and we headed out to IKEA. She's now outfitted with a table that will serve for both the laptop and as a dining table, cooking utensils, dishes, drinking glasses, utensils, and even a trashcan for the bathroom. It's always fun to see how other people shop. S's preferred method is apparently to research online the store layout, figure out where the things she wants are and then just go there and get them. She was willing to entertain the idea of being a little less regimented about it, and I think we ended up accomplishing more than she expected in a fairly short amount of time. In thanks, she took me to an oriental market in her old neighborhood and I now have Japanese BBQ pork steamed buns in my freezer. I haven't had them in years, although when I lived in the Boston area I used to have them frequently. There's a small Japanese shopping center in Porter Square next to the gym I went to and steamed buns were a frequent treat.
The Mysterious Butch came over for dinner that evening. I have to say it does my ego good to have someone praise my cooking so much. I really don't think I'm making anything all that exciting most of the time, but she loves it. Maybe it has just been a while since someone cooked for her. Anyway, a butch favorite of rib eye steak with potatoes and spinach (because there has to be some sort of green on the plate, right?) went over exceedingly well. There was good conversation ranging the gamut from travel to history to ethics. We also spent some time trying to guess what a mutual friend was going to wear on a date. Apparently MB pays attention to clothing. I may need to be worried in a different way than usual about what I wear when I see her. It was so nice to hang out with someone who isn't obsessing about the inauguration, because it seems to be all that people are thinking about at work. Well that and the upcoming inventory on Monday. I get that it's an historical big deal, but there are other things of import in the world. I'm more than a little disillusioned by the rampant commercialism of it all.
That afternoon I got to be the femme consultant for a butch friend's house furnishing. She's recently moved into her own place. Many of our mutual friends were somewhat taken aback by the fact they weren't asked to help her move (it's what we do for each other), but since all she owns pretty much fits into three duffel bags (and apparently that's a 50% increase) she did it all herself. She has this tiny apartment and needed basic things for it. So she came and picked me up and we headed out to IKEA. She's now outfitted with a table that will serve for both the laptop and as a dining table, cooking utensils, dishes, drinking glasses, utensils, and even a trashcan for the bathroom. It's always fun to see how other people shop. S's preferred method is apparently to research online the store layout, figure out where the things she wants are and then just go there and get them. She was willing to entertain the idea of being a little less regimented about it, and I think we ended up accomplishing more than she expected in a fairly short amount of time. In thanks, she took me to an oriental market in her old neighborhood and I now have Japanese BBQ pork steamed buns in my freezer. I haven't had them in years, although when I lived in the Boston area I used to have them frequently. There's a small Japanese shopping center in Porter Square next to the gym I went to and steamed buns were a frequent treat.
The Mysterious Butch came over for dinner that evening. I have to say it does my ego good to have someone praise my cooking so much. I really don't think I'm making anything all that exciting most of the time, but she loves it. Maybe it has just been a while since someone cooked for her. Anyway, a butch favorite of rib eye steak with potatoes and spinach (because there has to be some sort of green on the plate, right?) went over exceedingly well. There was good conversation ranging the gamut from travel to history to ethics. We also spent some time trying to guess what a mutual friend was going to wear on a date. Apparently MB pays attention to clothing. I may need to be worried in a different way than usual about what I wear when I see her. It was so nice to hang out with someone who isn't obsessing about the inauguration, because it seems to be all that people are thinking about at work. Well that and the upcoming inventory on Monday. I get that it's an historical big deal, but there are other things of import in the world. I'm more than a little disillusioned by the rampant commercialism of it all.