Amateur Night

Greetings, Gate! Before proceding any further, let me take a moment to say to all the cats who hail from the rock-bound cliffs of Maine to the dewy coast of California, quote: Happy New Year Cats, unquote.

Now that the formalities are done, Jack, leave us leap:

What does it say, Gate, when one spends one's New Year's Eve in front of one's computer posting to one's blog-o-roonie? Obviously it says I lack a social life. Or that I prefer to get Gone With the Gin in the privacy of my own home. Let's face it, Gate, New Year's Eve for a lot of people is Amateur Night. The one night of the year when people who don't drink, cram 364 night's worth of alcohol into one evening and then go out and cause mayhem and havoc on the roads. I'd rather stay at home in peace and relative quiet.

I did get invited to the New Year's Eve celebration at the local hippie commune, The Farm. Let's set the scene: I was over at the IBB having an extended lunch break and chatting with K. Now K. is hoping to hook up with O. who frequently resides at The Farm and who invited K. over for the NYE celebration. K. would like, is hoping, to spend the night with O. but would prefer not hanging out with the hippies. "You need to come to The Farm, Paul, so I can hang out with someone normal." Normal? Me? "Well, I think I'd spend most of my time hiding in a tree from the hippies." I said. Even the lure of a zip line over the pond could not induce me to spend new Year's Eve at The Farm.

I've noticed that whenever S. comes into the store, D. comes in shortly after. This has happened at least twice and I'm beginning to wonder if there's a pattern being established or if I am reading too much into things. Now I know that D. is a fan of Serge Gainsbourg, and when she arrived the CD player switched from one track to the Serge Gainsbourg track. "You walk in the store and Serge Gainsbourg begins to play," I said. D. seemed to find that appealing. We talked about the recent tsunami in Asia and any potential NYE plans. "I don't really feel like celebrating anything," she said. If, however, she did anything, she said she'd go over to P.T. I didn't mention that I live literally a stone's throw from P.T. I should ask her out for coffee (especially if the S./D. pattern occurs again.) I wonder if D. likes Chumbawamba?