I took myself on a date tonight. It was an unplanned date, not set up by friends or lamented over for weeks in advance. It was spur of the moment chaos, my favorite one-on-one activity. The idea struck me as I was trying, fruitlessly, to play a dvd. The machine is new, and frightfully tempermental, taking a full five minutes to reopen the disc tray after the dvd title is inserted. Viewing the contents apparently involves more keystrokes than depressing the play button with the thumb. Give me a vhs system any day; for digital video went public after I turned 13! It's not often I have the itch for television. I remember that I own the invention only after I can't face my 2-5 current projects any longer. My itch for television, though apparently marginal by my viewing selection, a Japanese anime series, was singular.
Listerine breath strip dissolving in mouth, I set about on my date. "Let's do something crazy," I said to my date, myself. I drove 40 miles out of town to a casino. On the way there I verified with myself that if it was a casino, it would be on an Indian reservation, and cigarettes would be cheap. Oh the luck of things! I arrived five minutes before the adjacent gas station closed for the night. I purchased a carton of Winstons while I waited, looking pretty, in the car. I didn't talk as much on the way back. The music seemed to be enough. There was even a love song or two for us to ponder.
When I arrived back in town, I asked my date, myself, if I was hungry. I suggested Country Kitchen, but I was wise to their non-smoking policy, so I went to the Hardee's drive-through. I was once employed at a Hardee's, or a Carls Junior's if you're west of the Rockies. Aside from the standard hamburger, cheeseburger, roast beef and hot ham and cheese, I believe the Hardee's menu made a complete shift in offerings from the time I enrolled until the time I called in sick of the place. A new sandwich with a noxious sauce every week. They liked to keep us on our toes with order of assembly too. One week, the burger goes on the bottom bun; the next, it's the salady stuff that goes on there. I quit about the time when the burgers began needing diapers. I'm sorry to inform all of you who have been partaking of the Hardee's Thickburgers, but at the shop, that folded napkin with which you've been grasping that 1/3 pound of Black Angus is called... a diaper. Digression. Digestion...
I sped off from the drive-through and parked in the parking lot of a park overlooking Lake Superior. With the music turned down low, my date, myself, and I ate my cheeseburger in the dark.
I returned home. I told myself that I'd like to see myself again, which is more than a lot of dates have said. I invited myself inside. I said I really had to get going. I argued that I really had no choice. I laughed; I can be so funny sometimes. Now it just remains to be seen just how easy I am.
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