� weekend's end � 2003-10-05 � 10:18 p.m. �
I managed not to do anything I set out to do this weekend.
Our foosball table is piled HIGH in weeks of clean laundry... I am convinced that's all it's good for anyway... our nice $400 laundry rack... delicate hanger... and a fab place to hang my coats, my hand bags and totes.
In that sense.... I kinda like it.
I never made it out with my camera... and I am sure I have pretty much missed my opportunity for great fall shots. By next weekend, the leaves will be gone and probably, by next weekend, snow will be had - again.
Saturday I stayed in bed for the best of the day... I made a quick run to Zellers and came out of La Senza with two very expensive bras... I LOVE how that happens. I regret sleeping away a day that reached 30 degrees, but my body is at times my dictator and I listen to it.
This morning we went for brunch at the city's newest and most expensive restaurant... it was free courtesy of a customer... the occasional perk... here and there... free tickets to shows and free breakfasts at new restaurants... hey well, I'll take what I can get.
So imagine me standing in line at a buffet... Blair in front of me and a guy I work with standing behind me... I grab a piece of fruit off a plate... take a step back, turn my head and a WHOLE fruit plate, teatering above the one I had taken from moments before, FALLS friecely to the Mexican tiled floor. I am sure the tile cracked... but I DIDN'T TOUCH the fucking plate... I have NO idea how it fell... nevertheless... all eyes on me. Dirty looks from the chef... Blair turning red and the guy I work with is my only ally... he KNOWS I didn't touch it...
It was as if they were waiting for me to beg forgiveness and poor an apology... I would apologize, if I had knocked it, but I didn't knock it. It fell from it's STUPID and whimpy pedistal of two glasses covered is saran wrap.
It figures I HAD to be standing in front of it.
I think what happened is someone further behind me bumped into the table and it slid... but nevertheless when your hand is the last to leave the cookie jar, you're guilty. *laugh*
I never apologized... I believe firmly when you know you did nothing wrong, then you haven't anything to be sorry for... Regardless, they weren't happy with me... maybe I should have looked responsible and said I was sorry... Meh... what odds.
And that, friends, was my weekend.
My boyfriend's collegue thinks I am a bitch because I wouldn't let him stay out all night... in company I don't know... without a definite safe ride home... I wasted July weather in bed... a family friend died... and I made myself unpopular at a free brunch in the newest posh place to eat in town...
If you know me, and know me well, you know that sort of weekend is rather typical for me...
� previous � next � comments � diaryland � old �