And When One Eavesdrops . . .

 

I've had a lousy couple of weeks with misfortunes almost too numerous to count including -- but not limited to -- the death of a long-time and very dear friend, an explosion in my oven during self-clean resulting in broken glass all over the kitchen floor, having my Ebay account hacked resulting in hours spent with the police department and the bank and ghastly frustration in being unable to reach a live person to speak to at Ebay; there have been ongoing problems with my new sewing machine and today I learned that a machine quilting class I'd signed up for isn't suitable for anyone but a long-armer and it's too late to cancel and get a refund. I could go on but it's too depressing.

So when Himself suggested we go out to the pub for supper tonight, I said I wasn't very good company but gratefully accepted.

The sixty-ish couple in the booth behind us spoke a little more loudly than they needed to, and they seemed to be negotiating some sort of a way to move forward. Our ears perked up when she asked him, "Who are the least weird guys we know?"

We grabbed that question for ourselves and started sorting through our acquaintances, rapidly discarding the guy who cites dates and publications when trying to make a point, the fellow who wanders the neighborhood as a self-appointed inspector of any home improvement projects, and a handful of others before settling on a man from church who makes things happen and another guy we've known for forty years. And then we remembered that the latter once persuaded many of the guys in the crowd to don tutus and tights for a performance of Swine Lake and at someone's anniversary celebration for no discernible reason commandeered two of the other husbands and had them dress up in grass skirts and coconuts (photo from the internet, not that particular party). We acknowledged that most of the guys we know are weird. And that's okay. 

We took a sip of our respective beverages and tuned back in to the couple behind us just in time to hear her say, "Well, I think you need to pursue your happiness and I'd like to own a kayak."

All righty, then.