After a long day yesterday I was reminded I agreed to go to a dinner at someone’s house.

A couple weeks ago, I was speaking about cooking and food with a woman from a department I’m acquainted with. With great joy she told me about a special Japanese knife she has that is perfect for everything! And she really made sure I understood it has a wooden handle! I wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but I appreciated the obsessive communicating. I’m sure I do that about some things, too.

She sent me a mail the next day asking if I wanted to go and check it out and cook something at her place. Mmm hmmm.

I put it off for a week, canceling our first attempt because I became overwhelmed with a deadline. This week I had nearly forgotten again, and when she wrote to remind me about Thursday’s dinner, I was injected by that dread a person gets when possibly having made a mistake. I was certain I had something else scheduled for the evening and that I’d have to cancel again.

But, as I looked through all my bookings and due dates and obligations… free as a grizzly! Dinner on.

She doesn’t live far from where I work and I grabbed fruit salad on my way over. I bing-bonged the door and she buzzed me in. When she opened the door to her unit I could already smell something cooking and it was great. I was about to give her a hello hug, when suddenly I heard “Hi!” from a booming deep voice.

And standing just behind my knife-worshipping friend was a gigantic man. “I’m Adrian. Good to meet you and thank you for coming!”

Wowsers.

So, she has a husband, turns out.

I mean, having a husband is usually something someone mentions when inviting someone to their house, isn’t it? Or at other times during other conversations? How is it possible that she has a dog I knew about, but a husband I didn’t?

In that period of taking my shoes off and handing over the fruit salad, I ran scenarios through my head. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be there?  Or maybe she just didn’t think to mention it. Who knows.

Point is…

HOLY MOLY was he a great cook. He made curry from scratch, with lots of fresh vegetables and a great jasmine rice with spice and a squashy soup thing. The curry was exquisite. You think you’ve had all the curry varieties that there are, but NOPE. This was absolutely marvelous stuff. I obsessed about it with him, while the person who invited me over sort of looked on. One serving was enough, and it was excellent.

I left around 8:30 and headed straight home to get some other stuff done. I fell asleep around 11 because of my shitty sleep the night before, and was up early, ready to fuck shit up today.

Three meetings this afternoon, one with a very senior administrator, requiring me to wear a suit. No big deal. I got a new one last fall that I like, and it’s custom tailored for my shoulders so it doesn’t feel too much like a costume. Though I recognize that’s what it is.

Wait, what’s that sound? It sounds like someone’s about to speak into a large, high powered megaphone… with all that feedback…

AHEM! Welcome to Dissertation Alley. Once you’re in, you can never leave. Watch your back in Dissertatioin Alley because no one cares about how badly you’re fucking up, and there are traps everywhere. So welcome! Enjoy the misery! Enjoy the pain! Drink the stress! Bathe in it, motherfucker! Your DEAD!!

Oh shit! It’s the weekend!

Time for the hermitage to resume. <sigh>. I wish I had a happy sex slave. Is that bad?

Probably is very bad. Ignore that.

Have a great weekend!!!