I don't know about you, but lately I'm tight-fisted with my time and my money. These days we're all working hard and not taking much time off. Even then we don't spend much. I don't know about you, but I'm saving up for the next recession.
Sometimes, though, you've got to take your battered psyche out to happy hour. Yes, a glass of Two Buck Chuck poured by your own tight fist at home is cheaper than a glass poured by a server in a downtown bistro, but you're paying for elegance, leisure, and the festive feeling of being out with your friends and their psyches. And don't forget the server has a recession to pay for, too.
Doesn't tonight seem like the time? The weather's balmy, the summer's new. A glass of wine at a balcony cafe and a stroll through Old Town, or along South Lake Avenue (for ice cream) would be an indulgent, healing way to waste an hour or two, perhaps with fists unclenched long enough to hold hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment