Retrospective.
11:45pm and I'm sitting in a kitchen with a makeshift curtain drawn in the doorway between this room and the next to keep the light in. My hostess sleeps in preparation for what will likely be another 10 to 12 hour workday tomorrow. Periodically, just when I think everyone is asleep, Tuesday comes in to visit me.
Dessert at Cozmos, modestly priced food for its quality. Elegant decor and hip music combine to form a trendy, but mellow ambiance. We order the butterscotch creme broulet and the brownie smore sundae. I decide to have a cup of peppermint tea, which is the second time I've had it in as many days. Our waitress has a mild southern accent and is very attractive.
Dinner at Cafe Maritime, we order seafood chowder and steamed clams and mussels for appetizers and I have the lobster roll for an entree. Though I'm feeling much better, I decline ordering a drink, thinking that my lingering sickness likely has much to do with my habits as of the last few days. Good conversation compensates for slow service. My entree is large, and I feel too full for dessert, but my friends enthusiastically suggest we make a stop before returning home.
I observe a process that is a daily occurrence in this apartment: narrowing down the list of restaurants by price range, type of food, distance, and availability of a reservation within our hunger tolerance. We decide on seafood, though I'm apprehensive about the price of it here, especially with the spending habits of my hosts. We also decide on a destination for dinner tomorrow night: The House of Prime Rib. Just the name is enough to start me salivating.
Joseph arrives first. It is sincerely good to see him, though I didn't know what to expect prior to the moment. A year apart is long enough to forget how enjoyable spending time with certain people is. Lisa arrives next, a few minutes later, and we have the chance to properly banter like old friends that we didn't get at the subway station.
Awake. What time is it? It's beginning to get dark. The nap did me a lot of good, but I still need a few hacking coughs before my lungs feel like they're working normally again. Tuesday is curled up beside me.. catnapping, heh. I check my email, Lisa's given me some options for dinner tomorrow and Saturday and the names of some old friends we could call up. My excitement level rises noticeably. I am starving to the point of pain, so I help myself to a couple of eggs and a sausage that I find in the fridge.
I feel like shit. The adrenaline from the steep, uphill walk has worn off and now all I can think about it is how my eyes feel like they're a few sizes too large for my head and my throat is practically swollen shut. I see the bed in the corner, but don't want to impose without permission; who knows if I could have made it there in the first place? I grab a stray pillow and drape my coat over myself on the floor. A cat saunters out of the kitchen and watches me. I realize I know her name: Tuesday. I spend several minutes petting her until sleep overcomes me.
I call Lisa at the subway station and she comes down from her office to give me the spare key to her apartment. Our greeting is heartfelt but brief, there's a mean breeze and we both know she has to get back to work. She gives me directions to her place 6 blocks away. My bag is pretty heavy, but it doesn't sound too bad.
I wake up in a bed with 2 other people that happen to be engaged to each other. We're sharing an unzipped, double sleeping bag for a blanket that is almost 10 feet long when laid flat. It's 8am, and Gabe and Elissa have a 4 hour drive ahead of them to visit Gabe's father, who lives north of Oakland. Our hosts (acquaintances of Gabe from his childhood) send us off with hugs and a couple of pieces of toast that will represent all I will eat for the next 10 hours and have eaten for the last 12. Traffic is bad, then lightens up. I get dropped off at a subway station outside of San Francisco. My friends and I reconfirm that I will meet them there on Sunday to be picked up and warmly part ways.
Dessert at Cozmos, modestly priced food for its quality. Elegant decor and hip music combine to form a trendy, but mellow ambiance. We order the butterscotch creme broulet and the brownie smore sundae. I decide to have a cup of peppermint tea, which is the second time I've had it in as many days. Our waitress has a mild southern accent and is very attractive.
Dinner at Cafe Maritime, we order seafood chowder and steamed clams and mussels for appetizers and I have the lobster roll for an entree. Though I'm feeling much better, I decline ordering a drink, thinking that my lingering sickness likely has much to do with my habits as of the last few days. Good conversation compensates for slow service. My entree is large, and I feel too full for dessert, but my friends enthusiastically suggest we make a stop before returning home.
I observe a process that is a daily occurrence in this apartment: narrowing down the list of restaurants by price range, type of food, distance, and availability of a reservation within our hunger tolerance. We decide on seafood, though I'm apprehensive about the price of it here, especially with the spending habits of my hosts. We also decide on a destination for dinner tomorrow night: The House of Prime Rib. Just the name is enough to start me salivating.
Joseph arrives first. It is sincerely good to see him, though I didn't know what to expect prior to the moment. A year apart is long enough to forget how enjoyable spending time with certain people is. Lisa arrives next, a few minutes later, and we have the chance to properly banter like old friends that we didn't get at the subway station.
Awake. What time is it? It's beginning to get dark. The nap did me a lot of good, but I still need a few hacking coughs before my lungs feel like they're working normally again. Tuesday is curled up beside me.. catnapping, heh. I check my email, Lisa's given me some options for dinner tomorrow and Saturday and the names of some old friends we could call up. My excitement level rises noticeably. I am starving to the point of pain, so I help myself to a couple of eggs and a sausage that I find in the fridge.
I feel like shit. The adrenaline from the steep, uphill walk has worn off and now all I can think about it is how my eyes feel like they're a few sizes too large for my head and my throat is practically swollen shut. I see the bed in the corner, but don't want to impose without permission; who knows if I could have made it there in the first place? I grab a stray pillow and drape my coat over myself on the floor. A cat saunters out of the kitchen and watches me. I realize I know her name: Tuesday. I spend several minutes petting her until sleep overcomes me.
I call Lisa at the subway station and she comes down from her office to give me the spare key to her apartment. Our greeting is heartfelt but brief, there's a mean breeze and we both know she has to get back to work. She gives me directions to her place 6 blocks away. My bag is pretty heavy, but it doesn't sound too bad.
I wake up in a bed with 2 other people that happen to be engaged to each other. We're sharing an unzipped, double sleeping bag for a blanket that is almost 10 feet long when laid flat. It's 8am, and Gabe and Elissa have a 4 hour drive ahead of them to visit Gabe's father, who lives north of Oakland. Our hosts (acquaintances of Gabe from his childhood) send us off with hugs and a couple of pieces of toast that will represent all I will eat for the next 10 hours and have eaten for the last 12. Traffic is bad, then lightens up. I get dropped off at a subway station outside of San Francisco. My friends and I reconfirm that I will meet them there on Sunday to be picked up and warmly part ways.
posted by Uzura at 2:26 AM
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