Tuesday. I spent two hours after work having a beer with a bunch of our branch office IT managers who are in town for the week. I've gotten to know them primarily over the phone and it's good to say hello, how are you, I'm fine, how are the kids, you guys look pretty much like butchered meat hung up on hooks like the rest of us, I see etc. etc.. If I were younger and ambitious to rise up out of the cubicle farm muck, I'd be out doing this same routine, except I'd have stayed on and joined them afterward for dinner.
Come seven, I turned right at the door, they turned left and I caught my bus back home. I am not regretting the beer and I am not regetting the nice crumbly Stilton cheese I monopolized at the bar, the beer was good, the cheese was good and it was good to say hello, but the day's writing is shot, the diet is wounded (the Stilton was worth it) and I'll get a good night's sleep tonight and worry about any of it if I'm supposed to worry about it tomorrow. Fast living, here in the Oakland.
Wednesday. Two beers after work at the place across the street from Jack London Square. Hi, ho.